


Urgency

by kmandofan90



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Breeding Kink, Creampies, Deep Throating, Dubious Consent, F/M, Graphic Descriptions of Sex, Hand Job, Oral Sex, Somnophilia, Squirting, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, a little cockwarming, a little praise kink, all the cum kink, an attempt at the realistic portrayal of life during and after pregnancy, blowjob, borrowed this prompt, cum kink, description of labor and delivery, din djarin tortured for your amusement, i'm not even catholic anymore and i need to go to confessional, paz being supportive and sweet, sex pollen trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24746221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmandofan90/pseuds/kmandofan90
Summary: While the two of you are chasing down a bounty, Paz Vizla gets a face full of sex pollen. You are the only person who can help him combat the effects.
Relationships: Paz Vizla/Reader, Paz Vizla/You, Paz Vizsla/Reader, Paz Vizsla/You
Comments: 68
Kudos: 470





	1. pollination

**Author's Note:**

> Can be found on my tumblr: anxiety- riddled- mando.tumblr.com  
> Prompt borrowed from: little-ms-fandom.tumblr.com
> 
>  **Warnings** : This fic contains graphic, obscene descriptions of sex. If you are averse to any of the following kinks, _please do not continue_ : sex pollen, dubious consent, unprotected sex/all the creampies, hand job, vaginal fingering, squirting, graphic descriptions of somnophilia (sleep sex), pussy eatin’, cum kink, breeding kink, blow job/deep throating, a little bit of praise kink, some cockwarming, did I mention there is a lot of breeding/cum kink in this? 
> 
> This fic assumes that this Magical Sex Pollen drastically increases stamina, semen volume, and basically makes Paz a sex demon. If you think you’re going to get any semblance of realism in this fic, you’re in for a bad time. This fic also assumes that Paz and Reader have an established friendship, though not a romantic relationship.
> 
> _There be dubious consent ahead, since Paz is operating under the influence of sex pollen and Reader must fuck him for him to survive._
> 
> _  
> **This is your last warning.**  
> _
> 
> __  
> **Paz is going to fuck Reader and it is not going to be gentle.**  
> 

The forest is quiet. Almost too quiet. You sit up and stretch out, your back popping in several places as you try to relieve the ache at the base of your spine. For nearly a week, you have been sitting on a narrow, uncomfortable metal bench, watching the forest for your targets. Paz went off on the bike about six days ago to check one of the valleys, but you have not heard anything from him since then.

Checking the time, you scan the surrounding foliage, gnawing on your lower lip worriedly. He was due back _two days ago_. Paz is never late, not unless there is some sort of emergency, and he always sends a message to let you know he had been held up. Sighing, you sink back down and send him a single ‘ _?’_ to ask him where he is. Fortunately, he answers, though not in the way you would have preferred.

_hld up cant talk sty were u are_

You frown at the message. Paz is a stickler for grammar, so the atrocious spelling means that something is quite wrong. You send another ‘ _??’_ to demand an explanation, but he never responds. As you scan the forest a third time, you notice him coming in at high velocity. Paz parks his bike next to the ship and staggers in. Grabbing your gun, you shimmy your legs over the edge of the blind and grab the topmost rung of the ladder to climb down from your perch.

_stay awy_

Concern fills you as Paz refuses to respond to any other messages from you. You ignore his command and head back on foot, breaking into a light jog. By the time you get there, you are well on your way to being furious with him for not giving you a head’s up. At the top of the ramp, you notice that the only source of light is coming from the refresher. You shut the ramp behind yourself.

His armor is strewn on the floor. You crouch down to investigate. It is covered in something green and sticky. The furrow between your brow deepens. You pause just short of the refresher.

“Paz?” you call out.

You hear another clatter.

“I – I told you – to – “

“Paz, what’s wrong?”

“L-Leave,” he growls, “N-not sa-safe.”

“Are you injured?” you ask. “I have the med kit – “

“Orange. Flower,” he growls out. “Pollen. _Leave_.”

You look down at his armor once more and inhale sharply. The locals had warned you two about this plant. They called it the _starter of new life_ due to its more…amatory…side effects. Side effects that would be lethal if not dealt with swiftly. Swallowing, you very carefully pick the pieces up and carry them to the bin in the corner. After dropping your gloves into the bin, you slide the lid shut, hoping that the pollen will lose its potency after a while. Then you grab the med kit and head back to the refresher.

“I have the med kit,” you say, listening carefully at the cracked door.

You hear a muffled curse.

“Leave!” he orders. “It- it’s not-not safe – “

“Paz, how long ago were you sprayed?”

If he had been sprayed within the past hour, he could shower and use rubbing alcohol to get most of it off. The secretory fluid would not have the time to permeate his skin. You start counting the alcohol wipes – judging by the spray pattern, he had been hit right in the chest. Hopefully, his bucket had kept most of the liquid away from his respiratory membranes.

“ _Hours_. I have fever. Already.”

_Shit_. You exhale shakily. You stick your arm in through the crack in the door and aim it at the shower, hoping you can get a good read on his vitals. Within seconds, you have your results, and it is as bad as you feared it would be. Paz’s heart rate is in the triple digits and climbing. His breaths are short and labored. His core temperature is already several degrees higher than normal. How is he even speaking? You withdraw and gnaw on your lower lip again.

“Paz, how long can you stay in there?”

“Leave!” he snaps. “Just go!”

“No,” you respond, just as forcefully. “If you can hold on for a little bit, I can – “

The light turns off and you hear footsteps.

“LEAVE!” he bellows, as he rips the door open, nearly dislodging it from its track. “GO!”

Mandalorian or not, his raised voice is enough to give you pause. Lifting your hands, you take your helmet off, and set it onto the counter.

“Paz, I am not leaving you,” you say quietly, gently.

“I don’t – don’t want to hurt – “ he stutters out. “Could – could _kill_ you – “

“I am not leaving you,” you whisper. “I just need a few minutes, to get ready – “

“Please go,” he whispers. “I can’t – I _won’t_ hurt you. Please, _please_ go – “

Quietly, you start shucking off your armor and suit. You can hear his panting from hear – sharp, grating gasps for air. His core temperature is too high, you think to yourself, and if it doesn’t come down soon, he is going to die. The release of oxytocin and norepinephrine after ejaculation will combat the effects. You _should_ be frightened. You _should_ be running. 

All you can feel is a sense of determination right now. Paz has always had your back. In combat, he covered your _shebs_. In real life, he stood up for you when the other hunters put you down for your lack of skill. You have always had a healthy amount of respect for the older man. Now, all you want to do is help him survive this. When you are completely naked, you make your way over to Paz, tracking the sound of his wheezing gasps.

“Please go,” he says in a hoarse, broken voice.

You kneel in front of him, reaching out blindly in the dark. When your fingers brush against his knee, he inhales sharply. Gods, his skin is _burning up_. You shuffle a bit further forward, glad for the towel under his butt. It will make it easier to kneel on the ground at least.

“Paz,” you say quietly, as you find his shoulder. Then his face. “I want to help you.”

“Don’t…wan…hurt,” he slurs out thickly.

“You never could hurt me, Paz,” you say, leaning in.

Closing your eyes, you press your lips to his. His lips are softer than you had imagined, warm and plump. He falters for only a moment before one massive hand reaches up to curl around the back of your head. He pulls you onto him by the hips as he devours you, parting your lips with his tongue. He tastes divine: sweet, slightly metallic, and something entirely unique to him. He presses in, sending a wet jolt down to your cunt.

Straddling his thick thighs, your hands automatically fall downward, earning a hungry moan as you wrap both hands around his length. Pulling back from his mouth, you spit into the palm of your hand, and start to stroke him with long, slow pulls. Your other hand cups his testicles and massages gently, drawing a sharp grasp from him. He breaks his mouth away from yours, his lips tracing sloppy, open-mouth kisses along your jaw and neck.

He bites down just hard enough make your breath hitch before he licks at his marks, soothing the sting away. Your toes curl and you let out a sharp cry as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, his hands busy kneading at your buttocks. One hand works its way to your front, where his fingers find your clit. He strokes gently for a few moments, and feeling your slick, he slides his finger between your folds. At the squeak that leaves you, Paz slides one deliciously long, thick finger into you, curling it toward himself.

“Fuck,” he gasps, “Tight. _Tight_.”

As you eagerly roll your hips against his hand, Paz slides a second finger into you, forcing a keening cry from you. That molten heat starts to build in you as you gasp into his mouth, nearly drowning out the slick noises of his fingers working inside of you. You keep stroking his cock with both hands, feeling as little warm drops of precum ooze out to coat your palms. A primal thrill jolts through you – soon, he will be coming into you, filling you with his cum until it runs down your thighs. The mere thought makes you clench tight around Paz.

Without warning, he plunges all three fingers into you as far as he can, and you curl against his chest as you sob his name. As he pumps them into you, the knot in your belly breaks, white-hot pleasure short-circuiting every nerve in your body as you come. When you finally finish riding the waves of pleasure, you find Paz’s free hand working at his cock. He comes with a grunt, coating your belly with a warm layer of his seed. Panting, he pulls his fingers out of you with an obscene noise.

His wraps that hand around his shaft, still hard and throbbing, spreading your slick along himself. You lift your hips and he angles his cock into your warmth, sliding the bulbous head around your entrance. He’s big, but you’ve never backed down from a challenge before. Swallowing, you sink down, taking him in short, slow thrusts, gasps escaping you as he parts your walls around him.

“F-f-fuck,” he stutters out, his jaw clenching. “Good girl, take it all the way.”

You mewl in response. He is much, much thicker than any other cock you’ve had in your life, so you work your way down carefully, sighing with pleasure as he fills you to the brim. You raise your hips back up until he threatens to fall out, your core clenching wantonly after that brief taste of his cock.

“So fucking thick,” you sigh to him.

Impatiently, Paz tightens his fingers at your hips and pulls you down onto him. He pierces into you so deeply that it forces the air from your lungs, your mouth dropping open into a soundless scream as he splits you apart. He responds with a guttural snarl that reignites the heat deep inside you. You let your head fall onto his shoulder as you start to ride his cock, taking him until your clit grinds against his pelvis.

“Ride so fuckin’ good,” he slurs into your neck, “Doing so good, my sweet girl.”

His hands never leave your hips, as if he is afraid that you will leave him if he releases you, his fingers digging desperately into your flesh. You arch your back invitingly as you rest your hands on his thighs. His mouth finds your breast, where he teases your puckered nipple with his tongue, the warmth of his breath causing goosebumps in its wake.

As he turns his attention to your other breast, he wraps his arm around your lower back, pulling you flat against him, rendering you helpless to do more than grind your hips against him. He turns his head, slanting his mouth across yours, claiming you in a deep, bruising kiss. As you cling to him, you can feel another orgasm building in you, rapidly spiraling out of control. You come again, gasping his name into his mouth. He follows silently, his body shuddering as he pushes into you as far as he can, pulsing his cum deep into you. You squeeze tight around him to keep him inside.

“Bed?” you ask hoarsely.

“Yeah.”

You lift your hips, a ragged noise escaping you as he falls out. Paz urges you toward the bedroom, where he shoves you down onto the bed. You are helpless to do anything but lay there as he crawls onto you, his cock already hard and weeping precum against your belly.

* * *

Some unknown amount of time later, you wake up with a jolt. Your mouth is parched and your bladder is uncomfortably full. The blanket is strewn on the floor. Paz is still burning up, his body heat on the verge of being uncomfortably warm to you, despite how frigid it stays in the bedroom. Reaching out with gentle fingers, you find that Paz is lying next to you on his side, seemingly asleep. A tremor runs through him occasionally, so you quietly get to your feet and go grab the scanner. His heart rate has gone down to safer levels, which means he is beginning to recover. Glancing at the bed, you can just barely see the edge of his body in the darkness. You feel safe in grabbing some water. Hastily, you tiptoe to the refresher. Even on the dimmest setting, the artificial light makes your eyes water. After relieving yourself and cleaning up the best you can, you pad to the sink and wash up. You bend at the waist and hungrily start sipping down water straight from the tap.

Before you can completely satiate your thirst, you suddenly feel as if you are being watched, a tingle of warning crawling up your spine. Swallowing, you look up into the mirror just in time to see Paz’s hand push the door open. You avert your eyes and duck your head as he comes in. Burning hot hands wrap around your waist and raise you onto your toes, pressing you forward onto the ice-cold counter. The stark difference in temperature makes your nipples harden instantaneously, _aching_ for his attention.

“Why did you leave?” he hisses.

“Thirsty,” you manage to say, as his cock digs into your thigh.

As he starts to push in, you close your eyes and bite down on your lower lip as he forces you forward. The edge digs into your hips, your toes just barely brushing against the ground. You are helpless to do anything as Paz continues inward, invading and claiming you in the most pleasurable of ways. Just when you think he can’t go further, he adjusts his angle and slides forward another inch, so deep you can feel him throbbing in your belly. He holds you there for a moment, your body impaled so intimately on his cock, as his hands roam across your back.

“Fuck,” he rasps. “Look so fuckin’ _perfect_ like this, sweet girl. So fucking good to me. Don’t deserve you.”

You let out a pathetic warbling noise in response, tears springing to your eyes. Paz is burning you from the inside out, consuming and filling every part of you until there’s nothing left but _him_ – the spice of his sweat-slick skin, the heat of his breath on your back, the iron bands of his arms wrapped around you. You are helpless to do anything but submit to his needs. Paz mouths at your shoulder, adding another bruise to the marks that already undoubtedly litter your skin.

“Ready?” he growls.

Your heart pounds as you nod in response, unable to form a coherent sentence. Paz starts to slide out slowly and you swear you can feel the ridge of his cock against your sore, hypersensitive walls. Surprisingly, he doesn’t take you hard and fast; instead, he grinds into you, his cock pressing against some part of you that makes you see stars each time he brushes up against it. You gasp out his name, your hands sliding uselessly across the counter as you look for something, _anything_ , to anchor yourself. Even as tortures you, Paz growls utter filth into your ear, making you blush all the way down to your bellybutton.

“Like that, sweet girl?” he asks you, “Feeling me all the way inside you?”

“Y-yes – Paz – please – “

“Good girl,” he grunts, “Lettin’ me split you wide open.”

He punctuates his sentence with a sharp slap to your ass, making you cry out hoarsely in surprise. Paz’s hand clamps down on your braid and pulls, forcing your head back. You gasp and try to turn away.

“Paz!” you hiss, shutting your eyes tightly. “The light’s on – “

One arm worms its way under you to grab your tit, pinching your nipple before rolling it between his fingers. He lowers himself onto you fully, his chest against your back, using his weight to pin you to the cold, metal counter. With his free hand, he cups your jaw gently and tilts your head back. He nibbles along the shell of your ear before he sucks your earlobe into his mouth. His tongue darts out to your pulse point, his teeth ghosting against you. Right now, he is very much a predator, tasting his prey.

“I. Don’t. Fucking. Care,” he growls into your ear. “Open your eyes, sweet girl.”

You keep your eyes shut as you squirm. Paz’s fingers tighten around your jaw.

“ _Open. Your. Eyes._ ”

Shaking, you obey, and meet his eyes in the mirror. They are a startling shade of blue, so ice-cold that you feel a shiver run down your spine. His hips snap forward, drawing your attention once more as he hits that spot inside you.

“Like what you see, sweet girl?” he rumbles into your ear, “Do you like finally knowing who is currently balls-deep inside you, getting ready to pump you full of cum?”

A delicious shiver runs down your spine.

“Yes,” you whimper out.

As he locks eyes with you once more, you feel your cunt clench around him. Paz continues that slow pace, impossibly deep inside you, until you are sobbing for relief. He keeps his arm around you, his hand holding your head up, forcing you to watch him.

“You look so damn pretty under me,” he growls deep in his chest, making you tighten around him again, “Do you like feeling like this? Helpless as I take what I want from you, sweet girl?”

You can’t help the choked whine that escapes you at his words. You are throbbing and making a mess of yourself. All from seeing his eyes. Watching as his lips move while he whispers utter filth at you. Seeing just how big he is, his body engulfing yours in this position, _trapping_ you under him. When you start to writhe, Paz _finally_ takes mercy on you, driving his hips against yours, thrusting into you so hard your entire body jerks from the force. Not as deep as before, but far rougher than anything he has given you so far, rapidly bringing you to that edge.

“Eyes on me,” he says, as you gasp out his name.

When his hand drops to your throat, his fingers just barely tightening, that feeling deep inside you starts to change, making you feeling sharp and full.

“Come for me,” he says, “Come for me.”

“Paz – I can’t – something – “

“You’ve got plenty left in you,” he responds. “Come for me.”

“Different,” you gasp urgently. “It feels like I’m gonna – “

“You can do it, sweet girl. Come for me, keep going.”

“Paz – _Paz!_ – “

“Oh, sweet girl,” he moans into your ear. “Come for me, _on me_. I wanna feel you all over me, sweet girl – “

His moan breaks you then and there, your body convulsing as he continues that relentless, merciless pace inside you. The noise that escapes you as you come again is nothing short of a shriek. Each time your walls tighten around him, you feel something hot and wet trickling out of you, oozing down your legs to your ankles. After a moment, he pulls out, and you let your head fall onto the counter, relief filling you.

Paz picks you up effortlessly and sets you down onto the counter. With one hand, he guides you down onto your elbows. He pushes your knees apart as he draws you to the counter’s edge, spreading you wide open. A feral look crosses his face as he runs his fingers through the slick mess on your thighs. Then he sucks your juices off his fingertip, moaning in delight. Fervently, you pray he is going to eat you out, just to give your poor cunt a break. Moments later, your hopes die as Paz steps between your thighs, resting his cock on your mound. You swallow.

His hand trails across your thigh, then to your mound, and to your belly. Slowly, he strokes his way up to your breasts, where he pinches your nipples for a few moments. Then to your neck, where he tilts your face back.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he breathes. “Don’t give me those big, sad eyes. I’m nowhere near being done with you.”

As if to prove his point, Paz slowly starts pushing into you again. Tears spring to your eyes, a hoarse sob escaping you, as he rests just inside you, making you wait. He brushes his fingers against your cheek briefly. Then he fills you with one smooth thrust, seating himself all the way inside, making your back arch as you cry out. He begins a moderate pace, his hips smacking wetly against your ass, his eyes fixed on your bouncing tits.

“Touch yourself,” he orders.

“I – I can’t, I – “

“You can, and you will,” he says flatly. “ _Touch yourself_.”

You reach down to your clit and start rubbing slow circles. Then you slide your fingers down to where your bodies are so intimately joined. Locking eyes with Paz, you trace along your drenched, swollen labia.

“Do you like knowing that I am going to take whatever I want from you?” Paz asks.

Wordlessly, you nod, a fine red flush spreading along your cheeks. He looks delighted with your agreement.

“Never thought I’d ever get this privilege,” Paz continues, “Seeing my bite marks all over your pretty skin. Watching my cock disappear into your tight little pussy over and over again. Knowing you’re filled to the brim with my cum.”

You can’t help but to squeak at his words.

“How many others have gotten to cum this deep in you, sweet girl?” he asks.

You shake your head.

“Condoms,” you say. “Never…never let anyone do this to me…”

He lets out a groan that makes your toes curl.

“Do-do you like this?” he asks, an almost hesitant tone in his voice.

“Yes,” you breathe reassuringly. “It’s so fucking hot when you pull out and I can feel you dripping back out.”

He shudders in response.

“Makes me feel like you’re marking me,” you admit, even as your cheeks heat up even more. “Like you’re claiming me as your own.”

“Fuck,” he hisses.

Swallowing, you turn the tables on him.

“How long have you wanted me like this, Paz?” you ask, your breath stuttering as he locks eyes with you. “Under you, legs spread, ready to be bred by you?”

His eyes widen a fraction of an inch and he freezes. For a second, you are afraid that you’ve weirded him out. He closes his eyes and swallows.

“Sweet suffering spirits,” he rasps out. “Way too fucking long, sweet girl.”

Relief fills you as he resumes a more vigorous pace than before. You are shaking from exhaustion, but you are determined to finish this round. Biting down on your lower lip, you lift your hand to your breast and squeeze, pinching your nipple.

“Have you fantasized about watching these fill up with milk?” you ask sweetly.

His eyes fall to your breasts, watching hungrily as they bounce with each thrust. You fondle your nipples for a few moments before sliding down to your belly. There, you cup yourself and give him a wide-eyed look of innocence.

“How long have you wanted to watch my belly get huge?” you ask him sweetly, “To see me swell up and know that you’re the one responsible for putting me in that state?”

“Since the day I first saw these hips of yours,” Paz says, his eyes on your hand, as you cup your stomach, “Could have bent you over the nearest table and put a baby in you, sweet girl.”

When you feel those familiar throbs from your cunt, you could almost cry in relief. You are beyond exhausted. Arching your back, you moan for him. You grab his thumb and drag his hand up to your belly. You lay your hand over his and press gently, giving him another sultry look as you bite down on your lower lip.

“I’ll be fertile soon,” you whisper to him. “I wanna have a baby, Paz. Put one in me, please.”

He curses in response. As his hips snap harder and harder against yours, you rub your clit faster and faster, until your breath hitches in your throat and your cunt flutters around him, giving you one last weak orgasm. Paz follows with a grunt, folding over you, his body pressed against yours as he finishes in you. At this point, you can’t even begin to guess how many times he has cum in you.

Panting, you lay there, your arm thrown over your eyes, the tears finally falling.

“Wrap your legs around me,” Paz says.

You obey, swallowing your tears, as he scoops one arm under you. As he carries you out of the refresher, you hit the button to turn the light off, bathing the two of you in darkness. He lowers you onto the bed before finally pulling out. You grimace as your vagina protests his movement with a dull throb of pain. Paz slides in next to you as you stare up at the ceiling. You grab the scanner from under the pillow.

“How’s it look?” he asks.

“You inhaled a _lot_ of it,” you say hoarsely.

“Fuck,” he says. “Are you doing alright?”

“Paz, I’m fine,” you reassure. “But I can’t stay awake any longer, Paz…”

He shudders.

“I can wait,” he says hoarsely.

You lean up and press your lips to his.

“Paz, just fuck me whenever you need to,” you say to him, your voice low and gentle.

He inhales sharply as you lace your fingers through his.

“We will get through this together, Paz,” you say, stroking his stubbly cheek. “I am giving you my permission to do what you need to do to survive.”

He remains silent, even as you drift off in his arms. You feel like you’ve barely gone to sleep when you start to stir again. When you are aware of yourself, the blanket is gone, your breasts exposed to the chilly air. Paz has your knees parted. Sloppy, wet noises fill the air, combined with his tiny groans and sighs, as his tongue curls inside of you, licking his cum back out. He devours you, as if he was a starving man and you were his first meal in weeks. 

You start to drift back off until he presses three fingers into you, your sodden, aching cunt offering no resistance as he penetrates you again. He sucks your clit between his lips, making you come nearly immediately, deep and slow. He climbs onto you, pressing his lips to yours. 

“You alright?” he asks hoarsely.

“Yeah,” you whisper to him. “Come on, I can take it.”

Paz pushes in and you moan softly. Despite everything that he has done to your body, he still makes you ache in the most pleasurable of ways. He goes slowly, gently, peppering your face with little wet kisses, his hands busy as he massages your sore frame. As he touches you, your entire body relaxes. You drift off again, only to be awoken by the sharp sting of him pulling out of you. _Fuck_ , you think.

“Med kit,” you say hoarsely to him.

Your pussy cannot take more right now. Paz hastily obeys, bringing the kit to you. No hypospray. It might have fallen out somewhere in the cargo bay. You take out the bacta patches and tear the medicated pads off the adhesive backing. Then you roll them up. Paz catches on immediately. He presses them into your cunt. They are not supposed to be used like that, but it will do the job, since you don’t have the hypospray at hand. At least this way, the parts of you that need to be healed will get the direct treatment they need. The bruises and bite marks can wait until after this is all over.

His cock nudges you urgently in the back of the thigh. Your pussy can’t take him, so you decide to make do with the next best thing.

“Mouth,” you say to him.

He does not hesitate to move. He rolls onto his back, but your crawl over him and drop onto the floor, stealing a pillow to kneel on. What you have in mind is far more comfortable if you are kneeling and he is seated. You don’t bother warming him up with your hands. You take him into your mouth, closing your eyes at the intoxicating taste of your slick and his cum. Paz moans and a bit of precum squirts out onto your tongue. 

Bobbing your head, you take him in a little deeper each time until he brushes against the back of your throat, using your hands on whatever does not fit in your mouth. When you cup his balls, he grunts and comes immediately, flooding your mouth with forceful spurts. You gag at the sheer volume of his spend.

“Open your mouth,” he says, “I want to see.”

You obey. It’s dark, so you wonder how much he actually sees. He groans in delight as he squeezes the sides of your jaws, forcing your mouth open wider until it starts to dribble out of your mouth and onto your tits.

“Swallow,” he grunts, and you obey.

When you open your mouth to speak, he pulls you forward onto his cock, sheathing himself in your mouth. You close your eyes and bob your head obediently, even as your jaw starts to ache from the strain of taking him. By now, you recognize the signs of him getting close, so when he starts to pant quietly, you take a deep breath and push forward, swallowing his cock. He gives you a few seconds to adjust before he starts to fuck your throat the same way he’s been fucking your cunt for who knows how long now.

Tears spring to your eyes as you struggle to get enough air down, your head spinning from the lack of oxygen. You are helpless to do anything as his grunts grow louder and his pace grows rougher, filling the air with the sinful sounds of you gagging on his cock. Tears finally overflow, spilling down your cheeks. He pulls you forward roughly, burying your nose into his curls, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he finishes in your throat. You tap on his thigh urgently and he finally lets you go. You pull back, coughing violently as his cock _pops_ out of your throat. Gulping down a few mouthfuls of air, you wipe at the tears and snot trailing down your face.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Fine,” you cough out, your throat aching and ruined.

His hands find your waist. Paz gently lifts you onto the bed. You turn onto your side to face the wall, giving him enough space to join you. Paz lifts the blanket around your shoulder. You start to drift off immediately, your body shaking from exhaustion. The next time you are awake, you are aware of his cock digging into you, rock-hard against your lower back. He has used his hand to get off, judging by the warm slick coating on the backs of your thighs and ass. You are grateful that he has given you a few precious hours to sleep.

“How’re you feeling?” Paz asks. “I…I _really_ need your pussy, sweet girl.”

You squeeze experimentally. Not a single twinge or throb of pain. Reaching down, you pull the bacta pad out of yourself.

“Feels good,” you say.

Without waiting for an answer, Paz starts to ease his cock into you, making you keen as he stretches you back out around him. He pants harshly into your shoulder as he starts to fuck you again. Closing your eyes, you moan for him and arch your back.

* * *

You wake up with a sharp inhalation. Peering around, you feel Paz next to you, his arm thrown loosely across you. His snoring is loud enough to make the bed shake. Fumbling under the pillow, you find the scanner. All his stats are in safe range right now. You exhale in relief. Sitting up, you quite literally have to peel the sheets off your sticky skin, before you head to the bathroom. After a long, hot shower, you turn the cargo bay lights on.

It only takes a few minutes to find the hypospray under one of the seats. Checking the side, you find that you have three doses left. You take two for yourself and give Paz the last one. From there, you work on getting the _Desert Lark_ into the air. The target is long gone by now and you know Paz doesn’t like staying in any one location for more than a few days at a time. The forest is isolated, but you don’t want to risk being found, not if the two of you are both operating at reduced capacity.

You type in the coordinates for your nearest bolt hole and get the ship into the air. After making the jump, you head downstairs to see what can be done about the pollen on Paz’s armor. Dragging the bin to the refresher, you lift the lid just enough to slide the hose into it. You fill it up halfway and start pouring rubbing alcohol into it. It isn’t enough, you think to yourself.

Chewing on your lower lip, you head into the galley, and raid Paz’s stash of alcohol. You take the four largest bottles – coincidentally, they are all 130 proof or higher. They get dumped straight into the bin with his armor. Sure, he will be furious that you wasted his liquor, but you need him armored more than you want him plastered. As you crouch by the bin, you can see the vibrant pollen starting to change to a dull brown color. Good, it will be safer to handle this way.

From there, you go to the galley and scrub your arms clean up to the elbow. You heat five rations and take two for yourself. The other three go onto a tray for Paz, along with two bottles of water and a packet of sweets. If you are hungry, you can only imagine how ravenous he is. That all goes onto the bedside table. He’s still wrapped in the filthy sheets. You reach out to touch his cheek, but you stop yourself.

He had shown you his face while under the influence. You have _no right_ to look at him now. You turn the lights off and withdraw. Then you look to the refresher, where his armor is still soaking in the alcohol. You fish his bucket out of the mess and let it drain. Using his toothbrush and a bottle of some very expensive rum, you start scrubbing the pollen off his bucket, taking care to clean the inside thoroughly. It takes nearly two hours before you are comfortable declaring it safe to wear.

You take it into the bedroom and place it on the table next to the food. After giving him another lingering look, you shake your head, and head back up to the cockpit. This was not his fault, not by any stretch of the imagination. You aren’t even upset at what happened. When you get somewhere safe, the two of you can discuss what happened. For now, you will let him rest.


	2. germination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s plot in here, so you’ll have to get through that before the porn makes sense. I’m feeling soft and broody and hormonal right now, so pls enjoy Soft!Paz. Also there’s probably going to be a part three because I don’t know when to stop.
> 
> Forgot this last time, but here is a list of the Mando’a words I used and their translations:  
> Alor - leader  
> Alor’ad - captain  
> Sarad - flower, nickname used for Reader  
> Verd’ika - little soldier  
> (Ner) vod - (my) brother, friend, mate; different meanings based on how it’s being used  
> Shebs - butt, rear end  
> Karyai - main room of a Mandalorian house where people gather to socialize  
> Uj’ayali - Mandalorian cake, sweet and nutty

You wake up and yawn into the back of your hand, stretching your cramped muscles. You are not looking forward to this discussion with Paz, but it needs to be done. Unfurling your legs, you get up from the seat. The attempt is quickly aborted when something in your neck cracks. Pain starts to radiate down between your shoulders, making you grimace. 

Carefully staggering to your feet, you head to the ladder and climb down one rung at a time, hobbling toward the med kit in the galley. You know you are out of bacta, but you recall seeing a packet of extra strength acetaminophen in there somewhere. As you stare up at the cabinet, you curse yourself for being a responsible adult and putting it back where it belongs. With your back acting up, there’s no way you can reach for it, nor do you want to risk climbing onto a chair right now.

Rather than hear, you more _feel_ as Paz comes up behind you. When you turn to look at him, you see that he’s wearing his helmet, but not the rest of his armor, just like you. You grin at him weakly. 

“Hey there,” you say. “Uhm, can you reach the med kit for me? Please?”

Silently, he reaches over you and plucks it from the shelf.

“Go lay down,” he says quietly, turning away from you. “I’ll bring you some water.”

As the pain in your back starts to spread, you nod, and hobble to the bedroom. Thankfully, he has changed the sheets and flipped the mattress. You do something between a shuffle and slug-crawl onto the bed as you try to avoid exacerbating the tiny knives stabbing deep into your spinal cord. Paz comes in and pauses by the pillow.

“Hey…are you…are you alright?” he asks.

“My _back_ ,” you say, a faint whine in your voice.

He hands you some of the pain medication and a bottle of water. Twisting your body carefully, you stuff the pills into your mouth and drink down a few sips of the chilly water. The mattress dips under his weight as he joins you. Two very large, very warm hands settle on your shoulders. Before you can ask him what he is doing, his thumbs dig into your skin, and your body goes limp as a muffled garble escapes you.

“You alright?” he asks again. “I’m not hurting you?”

“Gods, no,” you whisper. “Keep going, please. Fuck.”

You feel his hands tremble.

“Paz, are you okay?” you ask.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “For…for hurting you like this.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” you reassure. “I threw my back out trying to get out of the pilot’s seat.”

“How the hell did you manage that?” he asks.

“What can I say? I’m good at doing stupid shit,” you respond. “Oh, yes, yes. Right there, please.”

Your eyes roll back as he presses down a little harder, his thumbs on either side of your spine, his palms cupping your waist. When his bare fingers brush against that little gap of skin between your top and shorts, you bite down on your tongue to smother your moan.

Judging by the trembling by his hands, he is agitated by something.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m fine,” he says immediately.

Slowly, you roll over to face him, and grasp his hand.

“You were just given a massive dose of a substance that massively disrupted your natural biological functions. You were on the verge of an aneurysm, or heart failure, or both. Your thought processes were massively impaired. You were stripped of every bit of your logic and your ability to reason. You are not fine.”

His hands falter and you continue.

“You…you…did something you never would have done under normal circumstances,” you say to Paz, your voice hitching as you consider that honorable part of him. “Something very precious and sacred was taken from you. I participated in that. And…and I am sorry, more than you’ll ever know. Please, Paz... _talk to me_.”

“You tried,” he said quietly. “You tried to stop me.”

He looks down, where your hands are still joined. Your heart aches for him. You know exactly what it means to him. Your stomach roils when you think of the children – what will happen to them when their beloved Uncle Paz cannot come back to them? What will happen if he’s _exiled_?

“Is there _anything_ I can do?” you ask, a desperate tone in your voice. “To make things right?”

He looks up at you, the black visor blank and cold, masking the emotions you know he is struggling to contain. He remains silent for a very long time until you are on the verge of snapping.

“Make things right?” he repeats, like he’s confused by your request.

“I wasn’t affected by the pollen,” you whisper, your shame eating you up from the inside. “And I looked. I did this to you, Paz. You stand to lose so much – “ He is still staring at you. You start to babble. “I am the reason you – you’re going to lose everything,” you continue, spewing out the random thoughts that pop into your head. “All because I looked at you, I should have kept the light off – I _didn’t think_ – “

“Stop,” he says quietly, his fingers tightening around yours. “I held you down. I grabbed you by the hair. I wrapped my hand around your throat. And I told you to look. You don’t know this...but I was so angry, sweet girl.” He trails off, looking away. “I wanted to…to hurt you for leaving me,” he whispers in a quiet, broken voice. “I wanted you to feel the same panic, the same fear that I felt. When I woke up and you weren’t there. I was so fucking angry I couldn’t see straight.”

Cold fills you, from your fingertips all the way down to your toes, the blood draining from your face and leaving your cheeks numb and tingling. You know what kind of damage his hands can inflict on another person – you’ve fought by his side dozens of times. He can - and will - break bone with his bare hands.

Quickly, you divert your thoughts away from what he might have done to your unarmored body. He needs you to stay calm right now, and freaking out over what might have happened will not help the situation. You stroke his knuckles, urging him to continue.

“That rage is all I can remember right now. When you looked…when you did what I told you to do…all that anger vanished,” Paz continues, anguish filling his baritone voice. “It was like a switch was turned off. I don’t know what would have happened if you had refused me a second time.”

You exhale and squeeze his hand.

“Let’s not dwell on what might have happened, Paz,” you say. “We are both here, and we are both physically unharmed. And that brings us back to my question. What can we do now?”

“Nothing,” he mutters as he looks away.

“Don’t you lie to me, Paz Vizla,” you say flatly.

“There is nothing else you should do for me,” Paz says stubbornly. “You risked your life to keep me alive. I can’t ask anything else of you.”

“Paz,” you insist, squeezing his fingers.

“You’ve done too much already,” he continues stubbornly. “This isn’t up for discussion.”

You push the blanket off your legs, ignoring the pull across your shoulder, and start to sit up.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Cockpit,” you say.

“Why?” he presses.

“If you won’t tell me, maybe Armorer will,” you say in your most defiant tone.

Defying him is the quickest way to get a reaction from him. Paz inhales sharply and he grabs you by the wrist, his fingers firm but gentle around you. He stops you with that one touch.

“Please don’t,” he says quietly. “Please don’t do this. I can’t ask you for anything else.”

“Paz, tell me,” you insist. “You are not the only person who would be affected by your exile.”

He flinches at that word, his grip around your wrist loosening.

“You are an idiot,” you insist, your voice breaking. “You have your family, your friends. Your Tribe. What about them?” Then selfishly, “What about _me_?”

His head jerks up at that. You can’t stop yourself.

“Paz, you’re my friend. I care about you,” you all but shout at him. “Do you think I want to tell the kids – our friends, our family - that Uncle Paz isn’t coming home? How can I spend the rest of my years knowing I could have helped you and _didn’t_ – “

You break off, your chest heaving as the tears start to burn at the corners of your eyes. Since the beginning of your friendship, you have always respected Paz, and now, you suspect that that respect has changed into something that has crossed the lines of decency. Fuck. Paz very gently pulls you toward him and into his lap. You lace your arms around his neck and sob into his shoulder.

“You are _ner vod_ , Paz. I can’t leave you behind…please, please don’t make me leave you behind,” you whisper brokenly.

As you cry, you unload it all on him. The crippling, paralyzing fear that you might not have been able to save him. The hand-shaped exhaustion that aches all the way into your very existence. The haziness that still lingers at the corners of your mind. You still do not know how long he was under the effects of the pollen, though you suspect it was closer to days rather than just hours. Aside from a few lucid moments of pleasure, you have forgotten most of what happened over the past few days.

At this point, you aren’t sure you even want to remember.

He shushes you the same way he soothes the children. Low, soft comforting noises as he rocks you back and forth, his arms gentle around you but never restricting. After an embarrassingly long time, you manage to calm down, and stuff your fingers up the front of your bucket to angrily wipe at your tears. This is not at all how you had planned for this to go.

“Fuck,” you say hoarsely. “I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” he says. “I don’t deserve it.” He falls silent. Then he tries again. “I’m not good with words,” Paz says. “I…I’ve made many promises to myself over the years, and one of them was to never treat anyone the way I treated you the past few days, especially not someone I’m supposed to be looking out for. I used you and I hurt you.”

He trails off. You grasp the front of his suit tightly, still resting your cheek plate against his chest. His heart rate is steady and strong, reassuring and calming. Just like the rest of him.

“What is it, Paz?” you ask softly. “Please tell me. We can decide together what we are going to do next.”

He exhales, stalling, trying to keep from answering your question. Ultimately, he concedes.

“The only way for me to keep my helmet is if you agree to marry me. For my Tribe…once you have seen your partner’s face, there is no divorce.”

You blink. He mistakes your silence for something else.

“So, now you understand,” he says, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“That’s it?” you ask him.

“What do you mean that’s it?” Paz repeats in surprise.

“We only need to get married?” you ask, relief filling you. “I thought there would be…I don’t know, shunning? Some sort of penance? Blood?”

He exhales, his head falling forward as he presses his visor into the top of your helmet. You smile against the fabric stretched across his chest as his hand trails up and down your back. You can practically hear him thinking.

“You risked your life to keep me alive,” Paz says quietly. “And now you think to give yourself to me until one of us goes marching away. I don’t feel like this is very fair to you.”

“I did all that I could to keep my _vod_ safe from harm,” you say. “I did for you what you do for all of us.”

“I had hoped that my wedding would be one where both parties entered it willingly.”

“If I wasn’t willing to marry you, I would not be sitting here in your lap, trying to convince you to agree to it.”

“You were forced.”

“You were forced, too.”

He sighs.

“I can’t help but to feel guilty.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Paz.”

“It wasn’t your fault, either,” he refutes. “And look what happened to you. I...I used you. For _days._ ”

His voice breaks and he exhales shakily.

“I made the choice to help you.”

“You could have died.”

“And you could have died, too. You needed help. I gave it to you,” you say. You can still feel the guilt gnawing at him. But he seems to be relenting. You hope he will see the logic in marrying you. “You might be the ranking hunter here, but that doesn’t mean you need to protect me from everything,” you say quietly.

He stays silent, but his hand continues rubbing at your back.

“I made the choice to help you then. I am now choosing to offer my help once more. If you are willing to marry me, my answer is yes,” you say. “I would be lucky and honored to have you at my six.”

“Absolutely not,” he says indignantly, “I have a bigger gun and better armor. You can cover my _shebs_.”

“Maybe I could convince Armorer to make you a chainmail butt flap,” you tease, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. “You know, as a wedding gift.”

“First of all, it’s called a kama,” he huffs. “Second, I will accept it only if it’s painted to match the rest of my armor.”

You laugh in response. He reaches up to clasp your hand, his hand totally engulfing yours. His rough thumb strokes the center of your palm, making you just melt against him.

“So, am I going to be Mrs. Vizla?” you ask. “Or are you taking my name? Or are we making a new name?”

“I mean, if you go to any Mandalorian gathering and introduce yourself as a Vizla, you get all sorts of benefits,” Paz says casually. “If there’s extra liquor left over, I usually get sent home with some. I kind of like free drinks.”

At the mention of alcohol, you freeze.

“What?” he asks.

“Uh…uhm…”

“You don’t have to take my name if you don’t want to,” he says in a hurry. “It was a bad joke – “

“No, no, that’s not it,” you stammer out. “Uhm…you know _how_ to inactivate the pollen, right?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Some type of alcohol – “ He goes quite still. “Sweet girl, _tell me_ you didn’t use my stash.”

“Ah…I might have, yes?” you manage to squeak out.

He sighs gustily.

“How much of it did you use?”

You grimace. The only bottles left behind are the watered-down samples he had probably ‘borrowed’ from some shitty hotel refrigerator.

“…if a Vizla gets married, does that mean we can expect alcohol as wedding gifts?”

He grumbles in annoyance.

“Yeah,” he says at long last. “That means you’re taking my name, though. We’ll need two Vizlas working the crowd to recoup our loss.”

“That’s fine,” you say with a laugh. “Uhm. Speaking…of-of choices. I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“Would you happen to have the implant?” you ask.

“The birth control implant?” he asks. “No, it expired a few months ago and I kept forgetting to get it replaced.”

You fall silent and gnaw on your lower lip.

“What about you?” he asks, tilting his head down.

“I was going to get it put in when we got back,” you admit.

The only thing you can hear for several long moments is the sound of the engines thrumming quietly.

“I do want kids,” he says. “But right now…”

“Would definitely not be a good time,” you finish.

“Yeah,” he says. “But if this…resulted…in a pregnancy, would you be okay with that?”

“I think so,” you say.

“Is there anything else you need to tell me?” he asks. “Do you have any kids squirreled away? Jealous ex-lovers?”

“No kids, no jealous ex-lovers,” you confirm to him. “What about you? Do I need to worry about being stabbed in the locker room?”

“No,” Paz says with a laugh. “You’re fine there.”

You exhale with relief.

“Wanna swap vows?” he asks casually.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you respond, your voice quivering just a bit.

_Mhi solus tome_. 

You’ve known these vows since you were a little girl. You would never admit it to anyone, but you had whispered the vows to yourself secretly, wishing you would find a warrior. A warrior to share your life with, to raise your children with. You thought you would live on your family’s farm for the rest of your life, waiting for the Mand’alor to call you into battle. It was a child’s fantasy.

_Mhi solus dar’tome._

As you had grown older, you had come to put off the idea of finding a warrior in favor of training. The thrill of the hunt was - and still is - intoxicating. There is nothing like the adrenaline that comes with finally finding the quarry’s trail, or the satisfaction of finding a safe bolthole, or the pleasure of negotiating a profitable deal with a merchant. Underneath that lust for success, you still longed for children to call your own.

_Mhi me’dinui an_. 

When the Empire had destroyed your simple existence, you moved forward, seeking a family to help ease the loss of your family having gone on to march far away. Now, your family numbers at fifty-three and going strong. Twenty of those people are children - children who are always underfoot, always begging for candy, and _always_ causing absolute mayhem wherever they go. 

_Mhi ba’juri verde_.

With those last few words, you find yourself a married woman. You feel no different than before, though you suppose it will take time for it to really sink in. You look up at him and reach for your bucket and take it off, blowing a tuft of hair out of your face.

Paz stares at you, his fingers reaching up to trail along the side of your face. With a jolt, you realize that he doesn’t remember what you look like. To him, this is his first time seeing your face. Then he reaches for his own, but you stop him, resting your fingers on his cheek plates.

“No, not yet,” you say. “ _Only_ when you are ready.”

He nods and his hands fall back down.

“Thank you,” he says gruffly. “For…understanding.”

“Our strengths, our weaknesses, our sorrows and our joys - everything that we are, we share _willingly_ ,” you say quietly to him and he seems to melt against you.

“Thank you,” he repeats.

“We will take this one step at a time,” you say. “One day at a time.”

“Do…do you think you could ever come to love me?” he asks, his voice nearly too quiet for you to hear.

Well, that’s one hell of a question to ask. You falter for a moment, but you decide that you will speak from your heart. You are married now. You owe him your full honesty.

“I respect you and I trust you,” you say to him. “You are an honorable, loyal, and intelligent man.” You clear your throat, feeling yourself blush a bit. “I also find you attractive, both physically and mentally. If you are willing to accept my admiration, I could very easily fall in love with you. Given enough time.”

As you consider that feeling in your chest, you realize what your heart has been telling you and your mind has been ignoring. Who are you trying to kid? You’ve been in love with him for weeks now, ever since you watched him playing hunter-and-prey with the children of the Tribe. 

“I understand,” he says.

You want to ask him if he could ever love you, but you stop yourself. You are not sure if you want to know the answer right now – you probably would not be able to handle the heartbreak if he says no. He is still incredibly sensitive from the ordeal you have both been put through. The last thing you want to do is pressure him. If he gives you any part of himself, you want it from a place of willingness, not from a place of guilt or misplaced obligation. Even as a girl, you knew love was not enough to sustain a life-long relationship. Maybe one day, he will be able to tell you those three words.

“So, what did you think?” he asks, squeezing your hip playfully.

“Hm? Think of what?”

“My face. On a scale of one to ten, where do you think I fall?” Paz asks. “If you rate me at a one, that means the helmet is more for the protection of others against my tragic looks. At a ten, the helmet is protection for me against the hordes of people who would undoubtedly fall in love with me at first sight and keep me from doing my job.”

You can’t help but to laugh at his words. He starts to laugh along with you. After a few moments, you fall quiet, occasionally giggling to yourself. He strokes your back gently the entire time, his fingers tracing along your spine.

“Paz, I am not going to stroke your ego,” you say, looking up at him. “But…I will tell you this: you have the most luscious lips I have ever seen on a man before, and I very much enjoyed nibbling on them.”

You can feel him blush as he stammers something in response. Then you grin up at him, and before he can respond, you hear a buzz from the cockpit. You get up and your back rebels against you immediately, protesting with a sharp stab of pain lancing down your spine. Hissing in pain, you very quickly sit back down.

“I’ll check on that,” he says. “You stay here and rest.”

You nod once. When he turns the light off, your eyes automatically drift shut, and you stifle your yawn. Maybe a quick nap won’t hurt. The two of you have so much more to discuss. You try to hold out and wait for Paz to come back, but the exhaustion rapidly catches back up to you. You are asleep before he even makes it back to the door.

* * *

The return home to the Tribe is one that is deeply anticipated, both by yourselves and by the rest of the family. When a hunter comes back empty-handed, it’s a disappointment. When _Paz_ comes back empty handed, something has gone horribly wrong. Immediately, the two of you find yourselves ushered toward medical, but Paz insists on speaking with _Alor_ first. The discussion is a blur to you.

When Paz told her that his oath had been broken, she froze in her tracks.

“What?” she had asked. Her anguish had cut you open to the bone.

When you confirmed that you two had swapped vows, she had been so relieved. Things pick up from there. Paz, being the noble idiot he is, insists on going back out to make up for the hunt gone wrong. The bacta may have fixed your physical injuries, but it did not do much for the exhaustion. Regretfully, you choose to stay back, and rest. The two of you need some time apart to think and come to terms with the changes in your relationship regardless. You say goodbye to your husband three days after you exchanged your vows with him. You do three pregnancy tests, just to make sure you’re not actually pregnant. Negative.

Not two weeks after Paz leaves, your period comes a little earlier than expected, and you find yourself both disappointed and relieved at the confirmation that you are not pregnant. You do want a family, but now is not a good time, especially with your relationship being so new. At least you don’t have to juggle everything while being pregnant. 

As the weeks go by, your mind and body recover. You start to go out on your own hunts. Since you tend to bring back much smaller offerings than Paz, the Tribe decides that your brain is best used to teach. You might be young, but you have a knack for breaking information in ways that are easier for others to understand. You get put in charge of the classroom, where you are tasked with educating the children and less privileged adults.

From traditional ‘school’ subjects like mathematics and chemistry, to combat techniques…you are responsible for coming up with a curriculum to get everyone on the same level. People come to you for help and guidance, and you quickly find yourself overwhelmed by the fact that you are now regarded as part of the leadership. Armorer finally takes you aside and tells you that being married to Paz means that you automatically inherit his duties while he is hunting, and his primary job is to teach.

That means that you are left scrambling to learn what you can from him in those few days that he is home so you can do your job. From sun-up to sun-down, you are racing around the hideout, trying to keep up with the endless list of things you need to get done. Despite having an actual degree, you don’t know a thing about biology, chemistry, or physics – which means that on top of everything else you’re doing, you also have to learn about those topics enough so that you can teach the material.

Paz comes home periodically, just long enough to drop off his offerings, resupply, steal a kiss, and rest. He hasn’t touched you since the incident, nor has he taken his helmet off for you. Selfishly, you wish he would at least let you nibble on his delectably plump lower lip again, but you put that thought from your head. He will come to you when he is ready. Today marks the start of your fourth month back home. You have settled into your new routine well, though your anxiety still flares up periodically.

You wake up extra early to go get ready for mandatory morning physical fitness training. You leave a ration by the heating element, armor polish and rags on the table, and a towel in the small bathroom. Looking at the bags under your eyes, you wryly wonder if having a private bathroom is worth the other stresses piling up on your shoulders. Already, that ache at the base of your neck is starting to complain at you, and you haven’t even left your room for the day. After you brush your teeth, you are ready to go, and you head down to the sparring rings.

As you spar with your partner for the day, that twinge at the base of your neck turns into a crushing headache in just moments, your vision going black at the edges. You can’t block the next punch, like your body is moving in slow motion. The last one collides forcefully with your bucket and you go down in a heap, the world swimming under you. As everything starts to fade out, your partner crouches next to you, shaking your shoulder.

-

-

-

Opening your eyes, you find yourself in medical, with Doctor Shen standing over you and the horrific stench of ammonia lingering in your nostrils. You gag and roll onto your side to puke. She withdraws the tube of smelling salts and tosses it into the trash bin. Nothing comes up but bile and acid.

“What the fuck?” you get out through your heaves. “What happened?”

“Judging by your bloodwork, you didn’t eat anything before morning training,” she says, looking at her scanner.

“I never do,” you say, flopping back onto the bed.

“When was your last period?” she asks, an amused sort of tone in her voice.

“About two weeks after we got back,” you say. “It wasn’t all that much. Why did I pass out?”

“It was likely due to a combination of stress, low blood sugar, and elevated levels of progesterone in your bloodstream,” she says.

“…what?” you repeat.

Progesterone was one of those hormones you knew the name of, but not what they did. Fuck, yet another thing that you need to learn about. Mentally, you add it to your ever-growing list of stuff to do. She puts her hand on yours.

“You’re pregnant,” she says.

“But…I bled. My tests came up negative on all three counts.”

“When did you take the tests?” she asks.

You pull out your data pad and check your menstrual calendar.

“Three, eight, and ten days after we had sex,” you say. “I...I wanted to make sure. Just in case. Shouldn’t...shouldn’t the tests have caught it?”

“Fertilization and implantation don’t occur nearly as quickly as you think. Sperm will stay alive inside you for up to five days after ejaculation. Based on what I can see in your period tracker, you ovulated just after you got back, meaning that you still would have had plenty of viable sperm waiting for your egg. Once fertilized, it takes about nine days to travel down the fallopian tube and into the uterus to implant. Your standard home test measures hCG in the urine, which your body produces once implantation occurs. You tested two days too early, if the timeline is correct.”

You exhale shakily. Well, you certainly need to revisit sex ed. Your stomach clenches. The baby. You have been stressed out, and you have been neglecting to eat properly.

“I was bleeding,” you say. “Is the baby okay?”

“That was not your period,” Doctor Shen assures. “That was implantation bleeding. I haven’t done any in-depth scans yet, so I can’t tell you anything about the baby’s health.”

“And the cramps?”

“The blastocyst literally burrowed its way into your uterus. I also don’t doubt that your vagina and cervix were still a bit tender and bruised.”

“Oh, gods,” you whisper, leaning your head back. “I’m pregnant. Holy shit, I’m pregnant.”

“Is this good news or bad news?” Doctor Shen asks gently.

It all comes pouring out in a senseless, incoherent stream as you start to cry. You hadn’t wanted to have kids for at least ten years – you wanted a comfortable amount of money set aside for them. Getting married would have been nice, but you never actually planned on it. 

Now, here you are, trying to navigate married life to a partner who spends most of his time away, working a dangerous job where he could be killed and you would not know until he simply never came back. People look to you for leadership and education when you have never wanted to do more than just hunt. Now, you are going to have to do both while pregnant for the first time. You break down onto her shoulder.

She sits on the bed with you and wraps her arms around you.

“ _Sarad_ , you will have all of us here for you, no matter what decision you make going forward,” she says quietly. “Do you want to take some time to think about it?”

“I’m not terminating,” you say, the words slipping out of you without hesitation. “I want this baby – I’m scared, Doctor Shen… _I’m fucking terrified_. Oh, gods, what if Paz doesn’t want this baby?”

“Oh, _sarad_ ,” she soothes. “I know you’re scared – most first-time parents are – but you do not need to worry. You have us – all of us – here to look after you until Paz gets back. I know you haven’t really had the chance to talk to him about it, but he does want children of his own very badly. There isn’t a child in this Tribe that he has not had a hand in raising.”

“We aren’t ready for this,” you sob.

“It doesn’t matter how many books you read, or how long you have been looking after children, or how many supplies you have in reserve,” she says quietly, softly, as she strokes your hair back. “No one is ever truly ready for the changes in their lives that a new family member brings.”

You continue sobbing. _How the hell_ are you and Paz going to make it through this? You two have been married for weeks - barely enough time to learn anything about the other. Right now, all you have managed to learn about your husband is that he leaves his _kriffing_ socks everywhere and that he piles his clean laundry in the chair by the bed until it topples over.

“Your body is going to change. Your duties here are going to change. Your relationships with all of us are going to change. But change isn’t always a bad thing, _Sarad_. Change can be good. It’s only natural for someone as young as you to be scared, especially since this is your first one.”

“What if he leaves me?” you whisper.

“ _Sarad_ ,” Doctor Shen soothes. “Pregnant or not, Paz will never abandon you, not while he draws breath. He cares a great deal for you.”

“What if he doesn’t come back?” you ask, your voice breaking. Her hand falters.

“Then we will take solace in knowing he had a warrior’s death. The Tribe will take care of you and the baby,” Doctor Shen says. “When the time comes, you will march by his side once more. Is that not what we want, _Sarad_?”

She continues petting your hair back, even as your sobs quiet down to sniffles and the occasional hiccup. Once you are calm and able to breathe, Doctor Shen starts working on the proper scans. You lay in the bed, wringing the blanket in your hands, hoping that you had not unknowingly hurt your _verd’ika_.

Fortunately, the baby is healthy, and Doctor Shen immediately starts you on a regimen of vitamins and injections to get you back on track. You have lost nearly five kilograms from how stressed out you have been, so she wants you to start gaining all of that back plus a bit more. By the time your checkup is over, it is nearly noon, and you are itching to get out of bed.

After updating Armorer and the temporary _alor’ad_ on your condition, you get back to work. You are determined to not let this pregnancy affect your work.

* * *

As you come to terms with the news of your pregnancy, you find you want your husband home. Desperately. Even though you two never had a romantic relationship before now, you still felt safe with Paz. You have always trusted him to do the right thing as a leader. Now, you just want to be held and told that you’re doing a good job, both with your duties and with baking your little loaf of _uj’ayali_. And who better to hold you than the jerk who put this melon-headed baby inside you?

Despite your best efforts, you cannot hide your pregnancy nor its accompanying symptoms for more than a few weeks. By week nineteen, your chest plate no longer fits. Your breasts are too big to latch the plates properly. They also ache fiercely with even the slightest touch. 

Today is the final straw for you. No matter what you do, neither your tops nor your bottoms fit you any longer. As you stare down at your bloated belly poking up from your unzipped pants, you feel your lower lip wobble. Then the tears start flowing and you break down into hysterical sobs. 

With each passing day, with each new livid stretch mark, you find yourself hating your new body more and more. Doctor Shen has assured you that your body is changing to bring new life into this world, that these changes are beautiful and natural. But you don’t feel beautiful. You feel like a bloated, beached marine animal, and you are not even halfway through this pregnancy. How much worse is this going to get?

You throw the clothes into the bin by the foot of the bed in a fit of anger and disgust. Heading to the shelves, you grab one of Paz’s sweaters and tug it on. It smells faintly of him. Then you put on some stretchy pants and curl up on the bed, breaking down into the pillow. You just sob. Letting everything out that you’ve kept bottled inside you. Forget working. Forget everyone else. You need time to just cry it all out.

For a very long time, you lay in your bed, Paz’s sweater pulled up over your head and a pillow in your arms so you can pretend that you are hugging him for just a little bit. You almost feel angry at your neediness - you’ve never needed anyone this badly before - but Doctor Shen says that these feelings of vulnerability are very common throughout pregnancy.

You hear a tap at the bedroom door. Sniffling, you sit up, and turn to see who it is. Din. He comes in.

“Hey, you weren’t responding to messages,” he says awkwardly. “Uh, are you okay?”

You shake your head, your eyes welling up, as you start to cry again. Hesitantly, he comes closer. He pulls Paz’s laundry chair over to the side of the bed and sinks down slowly.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

He is trying so hard to convey only his concern, but you can hear the wariness in his voice, as if he thinks you might strike at him like a snake. You sniffle.

“My pants don’t fit,” you say, your eyes glazing over with fresh tears. “My shirts don’t fit. My armor doesn’t fit. How did it get this bad, Din?”

Din tilts his helmet. He swallows.

“Well, if your clothes don’t fit, maybe we can start going out on runs in the mornings?” he asks carefully.

Oh, gods above, you can’t even walk without feeling twin stabs of pain radiating up from your poor round ligaments. The thought of running breaks something in you. Suddenly, you are livid at Din for pointing out that _he_ can run and _you_ can’t. Jealousy burns through you briefly before fizzling out, leaving you empty and sad, making you feel even worse than before.

“I can’t run,” you sob. “Everything hurts so badly when I run. And Doctor Shen said no to anything more vigorous than walking.”

Your ligaments were beyond tense – they feel like they are on the verge of snapping. Your baby barely weighs four hundred grams. And you still have twenty or so weeks left to bake. Dread fills you. Can the round ligaments holding your uterus up actually snap? Oh, gods. 

“Ah…maybe you could swim in the lake?” he suggests. “Listen, I know it’s been tough for you, but we can always talk to the cook and see about getting you some healthier rations. I can see you haven’t been exercising as much. It won’t be hard to get back on track.”

Your chin wobbles and tears start to stream down your face. If Din has noticed your weight gain, it means that you are huge now.

“It would be nice to have a workout partner,” Din continues in what he thinks is an encouraging tone. “I could stand to lose a few kilos. My belt’s feeling a bit snug.”

He’s full of shit. He, as well as all other hunters, train constantly to keep in top physical condition. There is no way he has gained more than a kilo without noticing. Well, at least he is trying to console you. You think it’s kind of sweet?

“I lost five kilos and Doctor Shen wants me to gain it back,” you say through your sobs. “And I’ve gained back two, and I’m throwing up constantly, I can’t stop going to the bathroom, I’ve peed my pants twice already – “

Din falters.

“You’re perfect the way you are,” Din tries next. “If this is where your weight falls naturally, then don’t stress about it. Being stressed will compromise your physical and mental health. Right now, your mental health is the most important thing. Let’s work on helping you adjust to all these changes before we even think about what your body looks like. Does that sound acceptable, _ner vod_?”

You just break down again and unload on Din. He’s Paz’s brother – now technically your brother, too – so, he can deal with you. That’s what family is for, right?

“I – I just feel so alone, I miss Paz,” you admit, “I just wish he was here, I know it’s selfish, but I just want him to hold me and tell me everything’s going to be okay…that I’m doing a good job, that I’m not royally fucking over the entire Tribe…”

He swallows.

“He should be back soon, maybe a few weeks. You aren’t selfish to want him here, _Sarad_ ,” Din offers carefully. “I’m not the best teacher, but I will do what it takes to help ease your burden. I think you’re doing a good job. All you need is time and guidance.”

“I just want my husband here,” you whisper to Din. “I’m scared, Din. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I have to be alone for the rest of this. I’m scared shitless, what if something goes wrong and he’s not here? What if he decides he doesn’t want any of this?”

Din tilts his head.

“Rest of what?” Din repeats slowly.

You turn to look at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. Oh fuck. You forgot to tell him. You press your face into your hands.

“Din, I’m pregnant,” you say.

He sits up ramrod straight, letting out a noise that falls somewhere between a squeak and a laugh.

“Holy shit,” he says, “Congratulations! How far along are you? May I see – would it be okay – “

You sit up and pull the sweater flat against yourself, letting Din see the swell of your belly.

“Nineteen weeks and four days,” you say. “About halfway through.”

“Holy shit,” he repeats. “Everything makes much more sense now.”

He sinks back into the chair, relief evident in his posture.

“I am so sorry, Din, I thought I told you. I guess I forgot. Again. I…I can’t remember where I left my shoes nowadays,” you mumble, pressing your face into your hands.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Din says. “Okay, this makes much more sense now. Oh, thank fuck.”

You burst into surprised laughter at his words, wiping at your eyes with your sleeves.

“Sorry,” you repeat. “I just…I’m overwhelmed right now. I’m too fat to fit in my clothes, and-and – I thought I’d have at least another week to get clothes m-made – and I can’t find my _fucking shoes_ – “

Din puts one hand on your shoulder awkwardly.

“You rest,” he says. “I’ll get you something to wear, alright?”

You break down crying again. This time, from gratitude. Din disappears. Within thirty minutes, Din returns with a big bag in his hands. He sets it down on the chair and opens it.

“I was discrete,” he says. “But here are some clothes that should tide you over for a while.”

You start to sniffle.

“Thank you, Din,” you say in a small voice. “You’re the best brother-in-law anyone could ask for.”

“Eh, let’s not go that far,” he says. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

He leaves while you get dressed. The clothes inside are well-worn, but they are clean and comfortable. You have no idea where Din got all this, but you are incredibly appreciative of his speed. The pants have a nice elastic band that doesn’t dig into your skin. They are also nice and long, so you roll them up to the right height. After the cowl, you slide on your new borrowed shirt. It is long-sleeved, providing the same coverage that your flight suit does, but the material is much lighter. It also draws in at the waist with a drawstring and falls to your upper thighs. Since you can’t fit in your armor, you just go with a vest with pockets for your tools. Once you put your bucket on, you check yourself out in the mirror.

You look…nice, you think to yourself, as you cup your stomach. Then, as usual, your gastrointestinal tract rebels against you. The burble of hot acid in the back of your throat puts a damper on your good mood. You take a few of the antacids from your pocket and chew them, breathing through the nausea and the searing pain from your esophagus. Thank goodness for Doctor Shen, you think to yourself, as you beg your stomach to cooperate with you. When you exit, Din looks down at your belly.

“Could I - ?” he asks shyly, holding his hand out.

“Yeah,” you say.

Din presses his hand to your belly.

“Should I feel anything?” Din asks curiously.

“Not yet,” you respond. “Doctor Shen says it might take another month before anyone can feel the baby move.”

“I’m going to be an uncle,” Din says, in a dazed sort of voice. “Does Paz know? Do you have a name picked out yet?”

“No, not yet,” you say. “And I’ve been calling the baby Melon, since it has Paz’s head.”

Din guffaws in response. He walks you to the _karyai_ , where people immediately take note of your changed figure. The congratulations start rolling in immediately, and you are swarmed by a crowd of people wishing you well. Din plays the role of bodyguard and protective brother-in-law well, keeping people at a comfortable distance from you. Everyone wants to see the baby bump, and everyone wants to touch. All it takes is Din pulling his knife on one overly friendly hunter for the crowding to stop.

As the weeks continue to inch by, there is no update from Paz, and you come to rely more on Din for companionship. Even though he is the worst at socialization, he still lets you cry at him with the gentle patience that you desperately need right now. At week twenty-six, you are huge, your belly outgrowing your borrowed shirts. So, you just wear Paz’s sweatshirts everywhere you go, not caring if you look silly. Your blood pressure has gotten too high, so Doctor Shen orders you to rest as much as possible. These days, you only visit three locations: workshop, _karyai_ , and bedroom. You simply don’t have the stamina to go anywhere else.

One day, you’re woken from an unplanned nap by one of the children shaking your shoulder.

“Uncle Paz is back!” he says.

After you let him touch your tummy, he giggles, and he goes running off to get into whatever mischief is available.

You scoot yourself to the edge of the chair and try to stand up. Unfortunately, your belly prevents you from getting up and you fall back. In desperation, you ask one of the hunters to help you up. Of course, they oblige, neatly hauling you to your feet. You thank them and head to the hangar. Din cuts you off.

“Paz went back to your room,” Din says. “No one has told him about the baby, so you can surprise him with...you know.”

He gestures at your belly, which is quite hard to miss at this stage.

“Thank you,” you say to Din, and you take off toward the room at your top speed: full waddle.

There, you find that Paz is already in the shower. You stay out of the way while his bucket is off. You put yours down on the bedside table. Finally, you catch your breath. When he comes out, you ambush him and go in for a hug, not caring if he’s only wearing his bucket and a towel around his hips. He wraps his arms around you.

“Hey,” he says, sounding a bit surprised. “Did you miss me?”

“Yeah,” you say. “It’s…it’s been…rough, to say the least.”

“Why?” he asks. “What happened?”

You grab his hand and guide it to your belly. Paz freezes. He inhales as he spreads his hand against you.

“Baby?” he asks dumbly.

“Yeah,” you say.

He sinks down onto the bed and pulls you between his knees. He gently presses his forehead against your belly, his hands rising to your backside. He murmurs something in Mando’a too quietly for you to catch. You don’t know how long you stand there. Something sweet and fierce and possessive fills you, tears springing to your eyes as you watch Paz rub your belly. Gently, you rest your hands on his shoulders, stroking the back of his neck, smiling as you feel the soft curls escaping from under his bucket.

“I can feel our _verd’ika_ kicking,” Paz says, his voice a bit muffled and strained. “They’re strong.”

“The baby’s been trying to rearrange the furniture,” you say. “I don’t think they like where my liver is right now.”

“Livers are for the weak,” Paz says gruffly. “What can I do to help, sweet girl?”

“…can you stay for a little longer this time?” you ask quietly. “When you told Din to look after me, I don’t think he envisioned being cried at four times a day and then being sent to buy all the foods I’m craving.”

Paz laughs.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll be staying longer.”

Relief fills you as you continue stroking his hair.

“I need to go update _Alor_ ,” he says wistfully.

“I’ll take a shower,” you say.

You smile at him and press your forehead to his before taking a step back. Paz gets to his feet and gets dressed, covering up every square inch of his delectable body. You press your knees together. One thing that pregnancy had done to you was turn you into a raging nymphomaniac on occasion. You quickly head into the bathroom for your own shower so he can have privacy to put his cowl on.

When you are done, the bedroom is empty, so you change into one of his shirts and turn every light in the room off. You grab your sleep mask and put it on so he can feel safe in taking the bucket off. Despite being tired, you can’t actually sleep. Paz comes back an hour or so later and joins you in bed. To your immense delight, he spoons you from behind, wrapping his arm around you and his hand falling to your belly.

* * *

Later that night, you wake up to a river of your slick dripping down your thigh. Your ass is nestled against Paz’s hips, his cock conveniently grinding against you, as he snores into your hair. Paz’s hand finds your tit and squeezes, forcing a high-pitched moan from you before you can muffle it. You grind your hips back against Paz, unable to stop yourself, and he stirs.

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs sleepily. “Don’t start somethin’…”

“Paz,” you moan desperately, “Please. I need you.”

That wakes him up. Your next grind against his cock earns a hiss from him and he reaches down between your legs.

“Fucking hell,” he rasps. “You are soaked.”

Clumsily, you roll onto your back, then your other side. You wrap your arm around Paz’s neck and pull him down for a kiss, tasting his lips for the first time in a long, long time. He inhales sharply as you nibble along his lower lip, occasionally pausing to trace the succulent curve with your tongue. He tastes so fucking good, like the sweetest wine.

“Sweet girl – mmph - is there - something you want - from me?” he manages to ask through your desperate kisses.

Your hands fall to his shoulders and you push at him. He rolls onto his back, shucking his boxers off. You follow eagerly, minding your belly as you roll onto your knees and straddle his thighs. You grind against his length a few times, spreading your slick mess onto him. He groans as you angle his cock into your warmth.

Biting down on your lower lip, you sink down, taking him to the hilt in one go. You stay there for a moment, your chest heaving as he splits you apart in the best way possible. He lets out a harsh noise as you squeeze tight around him. Already, your cunt is throbbing, and you’ve only just gotten him inside you. 

Leaning forward, you rest your weight on his chest, lifting your hips until his cock threatens to fall out. Then you sink back down smoothly, biting your lip to smother your desperate moans. His soft noises of encouragement fan those flames inside you to an inferno, bringing you to the edge almost instantly.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, Paz,” you whimper at him, “I’m gonna – “

“Does my dick feel that good, sweet girl?” he murmurs. “Come on, sweet girl, take what you need from me.”

You sink down onto him a third time and that knot inside you breaks. You sob his name as you come on his cock, your walls shuddering around him. For a few seconds, you rest, trying to catch your breath. He strokes your back and thighs.

“You alright?” he breathes. “Not hurting you?”

“N-No,” you say. “Just need to catch my breath. I’m too fucking fat for this, Paz.”

He growls, a deep, dark noise that sends a tingle up your spine. Paz rolls you down onto the bed carefully, cradling your body to avoid hurting you. You let out a squeak as he spreads you out underneath him. He leans forward to press a kiss against your lips. Then he trails a few more wet kisses along your jaw. From there, he rasps his tongue against your pulse point, biting gently and sucking your flesh between his lips. You whine deliriously as he continues to your clavicles, claiming you again and again with his teeth.

“Never. Say. That. Again,” he says, alternating his sharp little bites with sweet, soothing kisses. “Do you understand, sweet girl?”

“Paz – I can’t even ride you –“ you gasp out, as he cups your breast and his thumb brushes against your nipple. “For more than – ten s-seconds – “

The tip of his tongue flicks against your nipple and your back arches as you dig your nails into his shoulders. He rasps the flat of his tongue against you before latching on, engulfing you with his mouth, slowly circling your areola until you writhe against him. He draws back, the warmth of his mouth rapidly cooling.

“While I was gone, I started remembering certain things,” Paz says. “Like certain things you said while you had these pretty thighs spread wide open for me.”

He dips his head down to lap at the undersides of your breasts.

“Like you asking me how long I had fantasized about watching these pretty tits fill up with milk,” he says.

You immediately turn scarlet, all the way down to your bellybutton. Fuck. Of all the things for him to remember…he remembers that. He sucks your other nipple into your mouth, a rumble escaping him as he tortures you with those plump, sinful lips of his. He draws back.

“You remember?” he asks.

“Y-yeah,” you squeak out.

He presses his lips to your sternum and slowly works his way down, following the dark line that had developed on your abdomen until he comes to your belly button. He kisses you there as well, earning a squeal from you.

“You asked how long I had fantasized about watching your belly get huge,” he says. “You wanted me to breed you, didn’t you?”

Your cunt quivers at the dark tone in his voice, something that has you breathless and trembling as he presses his palm against your core. He takes a few moments to torture you, sliding his fingers along your slit, never penetrating you the way you crave. Paz pinches your clit between your fingers and your hips lift off the bed, a whine escaping you as he laughs.

“Now look at you,” he breathes into your ear as he arches forward, resting his cock on your mound. “I thought seeing you on the counter, your pretty thighs spread, my cock buried all the way inside you was beautiful.”

He slides home with one firm thrust, wrenching a hoarse noise from you.

“But seeing you like this,” he growls. “Knowing my baby is growing in you…there isn’t anything in this universe that could compare to just how fucking perfect you are like this.”

His words have you throbbing and aching, yet he only grinds into you, hitting that sweet spot that makes you see stars. He is careful with your belly, but he doesn’t have to touch you to make you breathless. His domineering presence is enough to smother you, to make you gasp for each breath of air. You are keenly aware of just how big he is. Hands – hands that can easily break bone – slowly map every curve and dip, as Paz worships your body with the attention of a devoted follower.

“All round, and clumsy, and slow,” he rasps, digging his fingers into your much softer hips. “Beautiful, perfect, fierce.”

“Paz,” you wail. “Please, please – oh, gods, please – “

You writhe as he continues that maddeningly slow pace, your cunt squeezing around his length greedily. You dig your nails into his shoulders and your heels into his ass, but the man is an immovable mountain, and he does not budge. Instead, he slows down, letting you feel every single drag of his cock against your hypersensitive walls.

“Sweet girl,” he groans. “I jerked off every single fucking night while I was away, hoping and praying that we’d get lucky, that I’d come home to this.”

You tighten your knees at his waist, urging him to pick up the pace. You are so, so close to that edge, your body writhing under his as he fucks into you, tears of frustration springing to your eyes as he denies you.

“Please,” you whimper. “Please!”

“So fucking perfect,” he growls.

He finally takes mercy on you, his thumb falling to your clit. You come undone, a shriek escaping you as you come. You sob and gasp your way through your orgasm, burying your face into his chest. Paz rocks forward a few times as your walls shudder and contract around him. You fall back on the pillow, your chest heaving. He pulls out with a slick noise.

“On your hands and knees,” he says, using his range master voice, the one that lets you know he means business.

You clumsily obey as quickly as your still-shaking body will let you.

“Now slide down onto your elbows,” he says. “Slowly, I want to see that pretty little pussy of yours.”

You shiver in mortification, the red spreading further down as you obey, arching your back so he can get a good look at you. You feel your swollen lips part as you spread yourself out for him. He groans as he cups your ass and squeezes.

“Look at you, sweet girl,” he says, as he moves behind you.

You feel him press into you. Then he slides in with one firm thrust, your passage slick and ready for more. The guttural noise he makes when he comes to the end of you sends a bolt of liquid heat into your core, spreading through your veins like magma. You rock back against him urgently.

“Nothing better than this,” Paz rasps.

“Paz,” you sob into the bedding. “Please fuck me – “

You writhe as he digs his fingers into your hips and pulls you back, thrusting forward at the same time, seating himself inside you so deep it knocks the air out of your lungs.

“So fucking perfect,” he says. “Seeing my woman like this, doing what she was made for.”

Involuntarily, you clamp down around him and he laughs at your reaction.

“You like that?” he asks, punctuating each word with a sharp snap of his hips forward. “Being called my woman? Being told that you were made for me to breed?”

“Yo-yours,” you pant out, too far gone to care, “Only yours – only you, Paz – “

“Outside, you are a formidable warrior, my _riduur_ , my equal,” he says. “But in this bed? You are mine.”

You gasp as his next thrust brings you to the brink of orgasm. You come for the third time, your walls milking his cock as you sob his name. Paz holds you up by the hips, thrusting urgently for a few moments before groaning, his body hunching over yours as he fills you to the brim. He rests inside of you, pulling you back against his chest as he sits on his heels, his turgid cock still trapped inside you. You let him nuzzle the back of your neck and shoulder for a bit, his hands dropping to your breasts and then your belly.

Then he lifts you up in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. There, he proceeds to lavish you with attention, refusing to let you lift a finger to bathe yourself.

After a bit, you give up and let him do as he pleases. Sleepily, you stand under the stream of water, and luxuriate in the sensation of his strong fingers massaging shampoo and conditioner along your scalp, gently detangling each lock of hair. From there, he dries you off and wraps you in one of his old sleep shirts. You don’t care if he’s already worn it – it smells like him and that’s what you need right now.

Then he carries you to bed and tucks you in. You are asleep and snoring lightly before he makes it back to the bathroom for his own shower.


	3. fruition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: ~5300
> 
> Rating: PG-13
> 
> Warnings: Descriptions of labor, but nothing overly graphic. Lots of emotions. Torture of one Din Djarin.
> 
> Author’s note: I had to think about whether or not to include this chapter for a long time. Ultimately, I decided that I am not skipping this part. I am writing this to portray this as realistically as possible. I am not going to romanticize pregnancy and birth. It is messy. It is painful. There is nothing at all modest about pushing a human being out of ones’ vagina. I think it’s a great disservice to people who can become pregnant to make it seem like it’s all fairies and moonbeams and sunshine because it’s not. For many people, birth is one of the most beautiful moments of their lives. For others, it is traumatic and scarring, both physically and mentally. I hope that this doesn’t put anyone off, but that’s just how it is. 
> 
> I’m also feeling soft and broody again, so Paz is gonna be a protective, supportive daddy-to-be, every step of the way. Also, I’m going to torture Din in this chapter as a bit of a consolation prize for y’all. >:D (However, Part 4 will contain that sweet, sweet smut. There will also be another smutty one-shot released soon to make up for all this. I’m also working on Chapter 5 of APMC. It’s giving me hell, just like any Mandalorian would. So please bear with me.)

Paz ends up staying two full weeks before resuming his hunts. You are immensely grateful for those nights he spends with you. He’s always there to massage your back when it hurts, or to run down to the infirmary to grab antacids, or to rearrange the room with you when you finally start to nest. And the nesting urge comes down _hard_. You are constantly fidgeting with your little stash of baby supplies, washing and folding and organizing. Paz brings back a little crib for the baby and it takes you nearly three days to figure out where you want it. He does a solid six weeks of back-to-back hunts, coming back home with a very sizeable offering so he can stay home with you for a few months, just to help you get settled in.

You roll onto your side, closing your eyes as the baby’s weight shifts off your poor bladder. Carrying low _sucks_. Your latest visit with Doctor Shen reveals that you’ve passed the mucous plug and that the baby has settled in your pelvis, which explains why you are running to the bathroom every twenty minutes. Despite this constant outflow, your face and ankles have swollen. Pregnancy glow? More like pregnancy _bloat._ You love your Baby Melon, but you are _desperate_ to get back to normal.

The Tribe have unintentionally relegated you to the position of buir-to-be, rather than the warrior and educator that you are, and that fucking _sucks_. Everyone wants to talk about your pregnancy, the impending delivery, and the baby. All you want is to sit down and talk about _blasters_ with someone. But _nooo_. Everyone is too excited about the arrival of a baby to give you that one small measure of normalcy. Well, everyone except Paz and Din.

Paz is…he can read minds, you think. He knows how desperate you are for socialization that does not revolve around whether you plan to breastfeed or use cloth diapers. He always listens to you, which is more than you are used to. To your immense delight, your big scary warrior wants nothing more than to cuddle with you. Nothing makes him happier than to be sprawled out on a couch, you in his lap, your head against his shoulder, and his hand petting your belly. The two of you steal as much time away together as you can, just hiding from your overbearing (but well-intentioned) family.

And Din? He tries so hard. You’ve come to understand that Din is very introverted, even by Mandalorian standards. Despite his inability to socialize for long periods of time, he _tries._ He wants to be involved, so he always brings his beautiful green child to come see you. You always accept Junior’s offerings, even when he is trying to stuff a handful of strangely damp crackers into your mouth. One day, he’s going to be a fierce hunter and provider, just like his _buir_.

The kid had actually frightened you a little at first, considering he has no one to teach him how to control those impulses. However, after a few months had passed, Junior settled in marvelously. Doctor Shen suspects that his previous living conditions had made him lash out at his caretakers using the only means at his disposal. Now? The sweet child follows you everywhere. He whines when he can’t rest his over sized ear against your belly and talk to the baby. Baby Melon is going to have the _sweetest_ cousin to play with, you think to yourself.

Today, you have taken up post in your big comfortable chair in the _karyai_. Even though you want nothing more than to crawl into bed and stay there, you simply cannot relax. Your anxiety has skyrocketed. Every false contraction has you jerking awake, thinking you are about to go into labor without Paz being nearby…even though he’s literally like fifty meters away in the shooting range. Your stupid hormonal brain wants him in your line of sight at all times.

Melon has been kicking the absolute life out of you, as if they have a personal quarrel with the current arrangement of your insides. The last time you had been invited to touch someone’s pregnant belly, the baby’s kicks had almost felt like little butterflies against your hand. The _buir_ had said that the baby felt like someone blowing bubbles through a straw, or maybe like goldfish swimming around in circles.

That has certainly not been your experience at all. This late in your pregnancy, Baby Melon has settled into your pelvis, which means that you are no longer in danger of being woken up by a kick to the cervix. From the inside. However, that now means that Baby Melon’s feet are pointing up. Right now, you would prefer getting kicked in the unmentionables than to continue feeling Baby Melon playing _meshgeroya_ with your lungs. As if reading your mind, the baby kicks out hard against your ribs, making tears spring to your eyes.

You manage a short nap on the seat, cuddling into one of the pillows that one of the children brought you. The contractions have migrated from your belly to your back, occasionally growing sharper. After a few hours of tossing and turning on your seat, Doctor Shen comes to pay you a visit. As she sits down next to you, she pulls out her scanner.

“Someone says you look more uncomfortable than usual,” Doctor Shen explains.

“I feel like shit,” you say hoarsely.

She looks at her scanner.

“Nothing to worry about,” she says calmly. “Do you want to go back to your room? It might be more comfortable than sleeping in this chair.”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding. “That would be nice. Can someone tell Paz – “

“On it,” one of the hunters says from right behind you, making you jump slightly.

Holy shit, you had not even noticed them there. And your senses are usually pretty good. Indignantly, you wonder if you’ve been assigned a keeper, to ensure you can’t go into labor without the rest of the Tribe knowing. Doctor Shen helps you to your feet with one steady hand at your elbow.

“Do you need anything?” the same hunter asks. “Maybe a blanket?”

“No, I just need to go back to my room,” you say. “Thanks, though.”

“Are you sure? I can go get you some hot tea, it would be no trouble at all.”

“I’m not thirsty, thank you, though,” you say.

They wander off, giving you some space. How long have they been staring intently at your crotch, waiting for the first signs of labor? Did you even have privacy now? Spirits, you love your family, but they can be overbearing at times. Once they’re gone, Doctor Shen shakes her head.

“Hunters and their incessant need to provide,” she mutters, almost too quietly to hear.

You snort in response. The two of you make it out into the hall. Din comes to investigate. You don’t mind his presence. It’s nice to have him around, though not as nice as Paz. Doctor Shen pulls him aside as you lean against the wall. The contractions are getting worse. They have migrated from the very front of your belly to your back. A crushing pain at the base of your spine makes you grunt in surprise as your knees give out. Din is by your side in an instant, holding you up with one arm around you.

“Din, get her to medical,” Doctor Shen says quietly. “I will clear the way, alright?”

“Got it,” Din says to her. Then to you, “Hey, I will be your personal transportation for the evening. Any requests?”

You can’t help but to laugh at his words. Slowly but surely, you and Din progress forward toward medical, pausing each time you feel that horrific pain in your back.

“I’ve messaged Paz,” Din says soothingly. “He’ll be here as soon as he can. If he suddenly goes running…”

“I’ll have all twenty-something adults in this Tribe poking around while I try to squeeze a melon through a hole barely big enough to fit the thing that got me into this _kriffing_ mess.”

Silence.

“You know what, you probably didn’t need to know that,” you say slowly.

“No, I didn’t,” Din says, in that same calm, patient voice. “Alright, almost there. Just another hallway.”

You grimace as another stab of pain stops you dead in your tracks.

_“Fuck_ ,” you hiss. “It feels like Melon is stabbing me in the spine.”

“Well, the baby is Mandalorian,” Din says, in a matter-of-factly tone, “Of _course_ it’s got a knife in there.”

You can’t help the surprised bark of laughter that escapes you. Din guides you to medical and into the private room in the back. You sit down for a few minutes, but you struggle to your feet within seconds. Being on your feet is less uncomfortable than being seated. Din helps you pace around the room a few more times before Paz finally arrives. Din makes a quick exit, saying something about keeping medical free of familial pests. Doctor Shen comes back – not wearing armor, strangely enough – and attaches tiny monitors to your chest and belly as you to strip down.

Paz takes your suit and helmet. After placing them on the counter, he puts himself between you and Doctor Shen. You wonder if he’s doing it subconsciously.

“Do you want a gown, or do you want to do this in the buff?” she asks.

“What’s easier?” you ask.

“I just need to be able to access your vagina,” Doctor Shen says.

“Gown, I don’t want my ass flapping in the wind,” you respond.

“Do you want a larger size? It’ll come down to your thighs.”

“Yeah,” you say.

Paz takes the gown from her and helps you into it. Since it is a few sizes up, it is quite loose and opens up in the front, so you hold that closed with your hand. Then he slides on a pair of weird hospital socks that have the grippy pads on the bottom. These come up to your knees, helping you keep warm in the frigid room. You feel a lot better once you are covered up. Doctor Shen might be your doctor – and she might have been looking at your vagina since you were old enough to start gynecological examinations – but you still don’t feel comfortable being naked here, even with the screen in front of the door. You grimace and curse your way through another painful contraction. Once it is over, she scans your belly and hums.

“This explains why you are in that much pain,” Doctor Shen said. “Baby Melon is supposed to be facing your spine, but it looks like they decided to face your bellybutton instead.”

“Can we fix that?” you ask. “ _Please_? Maybe an _epidural_ or something?”

“I give epidurals when the buir-to-be is having strong, regular contractions,” she says. “You need to be in active labor.”

“What the fuck is my uterus doing right now then?” you ask shrilly.

“The pain you are feeling is from the back of Melon’s head is pressing up against your spinal nerves,” Doctor Shen says. “The contractions are making the pain worse.”

You moan in dismay.

“So how do we flip Melon over?” Paz asks, rubbing your knuckles.

“I have a list of things we can try,” Doctor Shen says. “ _Sarad_ , do you want Paz to stay for this?”

“Yes,” you hiss at her. Then at Paz, “You leave this room I will _kriffing_ kill you, do you understand?”

Paz responds by gently pressing his forehead to yours, rubbing your back.

“I’ll be here every step of the way,” he says gruffly.

You feel your throat tighten up. Before you can start crying, another contraction wracks you, and you spew a few more foul words. Doctor Shen puts down a tarp and a stool.

“Let’s try getting off your feet,” Doctor Shen says. “Kneel in front of the stool and arch onto the stool, curving your spine as much as you can. It might encourage Melon to turn over. If not, at least most of the weight will be off your spine and your blood vessels.”

“Loth-cat stretch,” you say, as Paz ushers you toward the stool. “I can do a loth-cat stretch.”

He helps you sink down onto your knees. Then he puts a towel down onto the stool before you can arch forward. Immediately, the pressure in your back lessens, though not by much. You stay there for a few minutes, occasionally shifting your weight around until you find the most comfortable position. Doctor Shen comes in to do the check, crouching next to you.

“Deep breaths, _sarad_ ,” she says. “Can I go ahead and do the check?”

You nod at her. When you’re relaxed – or as relaxed as you can be – she slides her fingers into your vagina. After a few moments of palpating around, she pulls her fingers out.

“You are about three centimeters,” she says. “Your waters have not ruptured yet, but we don’t need to worry about that right now.”

“How many centimeters does it all need to…?”

Paz trails off as he spreads his hands apart, like he’s trying to fucking open _curtains_.

_Di’kut_ , you think viciously to yourself. Doctor Shen seems to be mirroring your thoughts, judging by her exasperated sigh.

“Ten centimeters,” Doctor Shen says. “We can expect dilation of about half a centimeter each hour.”

Your head snaps up.

“I have to do this for FOURTEEN KRIFFING HOURS?” you shriek at Doctor Shen.

“Shhh, _sarad_ ,” Doctor Shen shushes gently. “Dilation of half a centimeter per hour is average for first-time vaginal deliveries. In theory, your body knows what it is doing, and now it needs to apply that knowledge for the first time. If you choose to have another in the future, labor will go by much faster.”

You moan and rest your head on your hands. Paz starts to massage your back gently unprompted. His touch doesn’t do anything for the contractions, but it does soothe your back ache. Doctor Shen puts in an IV to help you stay hydrated. Between the increasingly painful contractions, you move around, occasionally going to the bathroom to pee when she tells you to empty your bladder – a full bladder can interfere with contractions. Given how painful everything is right now, you want to make sure everything progresses as quickly as possible.

At some point, Paz goes to the corner to take off his armor, gloves, and padding. He just dumps everything but his bucket into a pile. He comes back wearing only a compression shirt and his trousers. You are relieved when you can feel his warmth against your skin. Feeling him – _all_ of him – brings you immeasurable relief and comfort, soothing away tension you hadn’t even realized existed.

“There we go, _sarad_ ,” Doctor Shen says to you, stroking your hair back behind your ear. “See? Letting your _riduur_ hold you has helped your anxiety. Already, I can see that your heart rate is returning to a more acceptable range.”

Eventually, you return to the bed and lay on your side, curling around your belly. Paz stays by your side the entire time. Doctor Shen stays in the corner, well out of the way, as she monitors you and Melon with the electrodes on your belly and chest. Paz sponges the sweat off your face, occasionally helping you change positions as needed. You return to the bed, pulling the sweat-drenched gown up a little, and lay on your side. You are just in time, too. You feel a pop between your legs and liquid starts to trickle down your leg.

“Looks like your waters have broken,” Doctor Shen says, coming up behind you.

“Does this mean I’m almost done?” you ask quietly.

“No, _sarad_ ,” she says. “I can give you an epidural, but your blood pressure is already a bit lower than I’d like. Can you hold out a bit longer?”

You nod determinedly.

“Y-yeah,” you get out. “P-pain’s not as bad. As it u-used to be.”

“Melon finally flipped over,” she says. “It also looks like your contractions are getting pretty close together. Do you feel them intensifying?”

You nod, unable to speak through the next one. She looks to Paz.

“Will you want to help _sarad_ with breathing?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a bit rougher than normal. “Just like we have been practicing, _cyare._ Do you remember? In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

You curl forward toward him, resting your forehead against his shoulder, holding his hand in yours, squeezing your eyes as each contraction peaks. It is like you fall into a trance, breathing on autopilot, just focusing on his arm around you, breathing in time with him, even as the contractions worsen. Paz continues to coach you through breathing, even when you vomit over the side of the bed and just barely miss his leg. He just places one of his spare towels onto the mess while you rinse the vomit out of your mouth. When you settle back down, he uses his free hand to touch you all over, keeping you grounded firmly. The pain lessens a bit, though the contractions remain strong. It’s a contradiction you can’t understand but are immensely grateful for.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “You are doing so well. We are going to get through this, _cyare_. I am here. I will take care of you.”

The next time Doctor Shen does a check, she touches your upper arm gently.

“You are at ten centimeters,” she says. “Do you feel like you need to push?”

You shake your head. Paz wipes a few sweaty strands back out of your face.

“That’s alright,” she says. “Melon might take a little longer to descend into the birth canal. Your body will let you know when it is time. Just continue breathing with Paz. You are doing so well, _sarad_.”

You lay there on your side, eyes closed, breathing quietly until you start feeling that urge to push.

“Doct-doctor Shen,” you stutter out. “I-I think I need to pu-push – “

“Is this position comfortable for you?” she asks.

“Y-yes,” you say. “Don’t want t-to move.”

“Alright, push with the contraction, _sarad_ ,” she soothes. “Paz, do you remember what we discussed?”

His hands tremble as he nods wordlessly.

“Yeah. Deep breath with the contraction and push,” he coaches shakily. You squeeze his fingers at the apex of the contraction, then you relax your grip. “Slowly let it out as the contraction wanes.”

You let out a frustrated noise as you fall back onto the pillow.

“Two deep breaths, _ner riduur_. We are almost there. Soon, we will meet out _verd’ika_.”

You relax at the sound of his voice, your fingers tightening around his hands. By the third contraction, Doctor Shen takes a step back and peers down between your legs.

“At some point, I am going to need you to let go of Paz,” she says. “I will need him to hold your leg up so I can get help Melon come out, alright?”

Panic washes over you like a bucket of cold water, washing away that safe, warm feeling you had been basking in.

“N-no, I want-to hold – “

“ _Sarad_ , we don’t have a railing to hold your leg up,” she says gently. “Do you want to sit up?”

“No,” you say, your voice breaking, “I want Paz _here_ , I – I – need – “

The thought of not having Paz _here_ with you makes you sick to your stomach, and panic starts to seize you, your throat closing up. When you start to hyperventilate, Doctor Shen squeezes your hand.

“It’s alright, we will make this work,” she says. “Would you mind having someone else in here to help?”

“I don’t care,” you whimper.

She rubs your side gently, making you mewl. Paz coaches you through another contraction before she speaks again.

“Is there anyone here you wouldn’t mind having here?” she asks.

You fumble for a minute, unable to think of anyone you want here. You love your friends, but you aren’t sure if they need to be here while you are at your most vulnerable.

“Maybe Din?” she prompts.

“F-fine,” you manage to say.

“I will call him in as the baby gets further down,” she says. “It might take a few more minutes.”

You nod, keeping your hands wrapped tightly around Paz’s hand, pushing when you have need. Doctor Shen stays by your side the entire time, occasionally murmuring something at you. After about thirty minutes, she disappears for a little bit. Then she comes back, Din in tow. Looking over your shoulder, you see that he stops right at the door, his body pressed up against it. It is almost like he is afraid to be here. That does _not_ help your anxiety.

“Come here,” Doctor Shen says.

“ _Closer_?” Din repeats, his voice half an octave higher than normal.

“Remember what we discussed,” Doctor Shen says in a pleasant tone. “Come here, keep your eyes toward the wall.”

Din obeys, keeping his head aimed at the wall behind your head.

“ _Sarad_ ,” she says, “Din is here, and he is going to hold your leg up until Melon comes out.”

You just grunt at her. Doctor Shen goes down to your lower half, a sterile tray in her hands. Fortunately, Din does what he is told to do, staying as still as a statue, even as your legs start to tingle and shake. Paz just holds you, whispering quiet, reassuring things between contractions. It hurts so much, but it feels like you’ve been filled with a second wind. You want this baby _out_. You feel a burning, tingling sensation from down there, painful pressure building even higher.

“Alright, _sarad_ ,” Doctor Shen says, “Melon’s head is about to come out. Do you want to look?”

“No,” you manage to say. “Out, out – “

“I’m going to give you a shot to help with the delivery of the placenta,” she says. “When the baby comes out, Din is going to help you turn onto your back.” You nod. “After that, I am going to put Melon on your belly. I will put a hat on Melon’s head and a small absorbent towel over the bottom half to help them stay warm.”

You nod. Rotate, belly, dry, warm. You can understand that much. You are so, so close, you think to yourself blearily, as tears of relief spring to your eyes. Soon, you’re going to be holding your Melon in your arms, and you’ll finally see whose nose the baby has. From there, everything sort of goes blurry until a shrill cry pierces the fog around your brain.

“Help _sarad_ turn onto her back,” Doctor Shen says. Once you are on your back, she speaks, “Now get out.”

Doctor Shen opens your gown and places a wet, screaming grey lump onto your chest. Once Melon has a hat on their head and a light towel draped gently over their lower half, Doctor Shen backs out of the room, shutting the door behind herself. Immediately, Paz rips his bucket off and leans in for a closer look. Your throat closes up and you start to tear up. The baby looks like an angry, purple, soggy lump of dough - the most beautiful, wonderful, awe-inspiring little creature you have seen in your entire life. You and Paz start to cry at the exact same time.

You start touching the baby, feeling the weird waxy coating on the skin. The soft downy hair coating their shoulders and head. How warm their skin is. Paz joins in, stroking the baby’s head gently with his fingers. For a few minutes, Melon doesn’t really do anything except lay there and blink at Paz’s tear stained face.

“Hello, Melon,” you whisper to your child. “It’s good to finally meet you, _ik’aad_.”

The tears start to spill out of Paz’s eyes, trailing down his cheeks and into his scruffy beard.

“Perfect,” he manages to choke out. “So perfect.”

When Paz speaks, his voice seems to wake Melon up, two bright eyes opening wider as little limbs start to move. At first, Melon just wriggles a bit, but as the two of you watch, Melon starts to move their head and shoulders, stretching uncoordinated arms above their head. Then Melon draws their knees up to their chest and _pushes_.

“You can do it,” you whisper in awe. “You can do it, sweetling.”

Baby Melon turns their head from side to side, tiny baby toes digging into your belly as they start crawling up to your breast, honing on your nipple with single-minded determination. When Melon rests their head on your breast, you break down again, reaching for Paz with your free hand. He grasps your fingers tightly, his other hand resting lightly on your abdomen, his own digits resting lightly on Melon’s calf.

You resist the urge to help Melon latch on – Doctor Shen said to let the process happen naturally, to let Melon find your breast on their own time. As you watch, the baby starts pressing their face against your skin, taking in your scent as they mouth along your skin. It takes Melon a while to familiarize themselves with you, but they finally latch on for the first meal, gripping your breast with surprisingly strong hands. Melon grunts as they suckle down your colostrum. Paz leans in, resting his forehead against yours, his hot tears falling onto your cheek as he tries to stifle his crying.

“You did so well, _sarad_ ,” he whispers hoarsely. “Our baby…our baby is _perfect_ , as beautiful as you.”

He inhales shakily and laughs.

“We have a baby now,” he says. “Spirits above, we are _parents_ now. Thank you, _sarad_ , thank you for making our family bigger.”

He chokes up again. Paz finally meets your eyes and presses his lips to yours for the first time in ages. His lips are wet with tears and you melt into him, kissing him back as something fierce and wonderful fills your heart. He breaks the kiss a few moments later and rests his forehead against yours again. Your eyes well up, sniffling as you try to keep quiet to avoid startling the baby. Melon falls asleep on your breast. You drift off along with the baby, confident that Paz will make sure that the baby does not fall off you.

* * *

[Bonus Scene]

Hours after helping his sister-in-law to medical, Din feels like he has nearly worn a hole in the flooring from his worried pacing. _Everyone_ knows the baby is being born right now, despite their precautions, and are waiting patiently in the hallway. Occasionally, someone pops their head in to ask if he needs something, but he refuses. His refusals grow shorter and more violent as time goes by. When Doctor Shen comes out of the room and beckons at him, he hurries over, thinking the worst has happened.

“We need your assistance,” she says.

“…for what?” he asks in surprise.

“We just need your help,” she says.

“But Paz is in there,” Din responds. “And I’m not her husband – I’m not sure I should even be here.”

“ _Sarad_ needs some help,” Doctor Shen says. “And you spent months looking after her. So you are going to help.”

“But – “

Doctor Shen grabs him by the chest plate and pulls him down to her level.

“That was not a request,” she says in that soft, dangerous tone, one that sends shivers up his spine. “ _Sarad_ needs your help, and you _will_ render it without complaining. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Doctor Shen,” he manages to say. “I’d be happy to help.”

“Good,” she says. “Come on.”

Din enters the room just after Doctor Shen, lingering by the door. He can see his sister-in-law on her side, facing away from him, wearing a short hospital gown. What could they possibly need _his_ help with? Doctor Shen turns to look at him.

“Come here,” she orders.

Din doesn’t budge.

“ _Closer_?” he asks incredulously.

“Remember what we discussed. Come here, keep your eyes toward the wall.”

Din swallows and follows the orders he has been given, averting his eyes to the wall when he sees blood on the bedding. He stays a few inches away from the bed, looking at the wall, trying desperately to drown out the sounds of his sister-in-law’s whimpering and groaning.

“ _Sarad_. Din is here, and he is going to hold your leg up until Melon comes out.”

_Leg_? He’s going to hold her _leg up_? Din falters, staring down at her leg, then looking at Doctor Shen. She is staring at him expectantly, her hand resting lightly on the tray of medical tools on the little cart next to her. Stiffly, he reaches out. Doctor Shen gestures at the bed. Din swallows his protest and crawls onto the bed behind her, lifting her leg so she can focus on giving birth. He catches a glimpse of her lower region as he helps her position herself comfortably. Once she is happy, he turns his head to the wall, and starts counting to himself, hoping that this will end soon.

Her pained cries grow worse as the minutes tick by. Din pats her shoulder comfortingly, trying to ease her pain, while Paz encourages her quietly, pressing his bucket against her forehead.

“Alright, _sarad_. Melon’s head is about to come out. Do you want to look?”

“No,” you manage to say. “Out, out – “

Din can’t help but to look and pure horror fills him at what he is seeing. He bites down on his lower lip and stares up at the ceiling, _praying_ for this to be over. His arms and back ache violently from holding this position for so long.

“I’m going to give you a shot to help with the delivery of the placenta. When the baby comes out, Din is going to help you turn onto your back.”

She nods once, her body shaking violently.

“After that, I am going to put Melon on your chest. I will put a hat on Melon’s head and a small absorbent cloth over the bottom half to help them stay warm.”

Okay, Din thinks to himself. This will be over soon. Kid comes out, kid goes on belly, then towel and hat go on kid. Simple enough. He breathes his way through the next few minutes, trying to block out the sound of _sarad’s_ laboring. He’s only distantly involved, and he feels guilt for not being able to help her through this, to ease her pain and make this better. He can’t imagine how badly Paz is hurting right now.

Doctor Shen ducks down with a towel. Din quickly stops himself from looking and waits, counting the seconds as they tick by. Then Doctor Shen comes back up with the baby in the towel. Din stares at the baby. He has never seen an infant fresh from the womb before. Din is used to chubby-cheeked, bright-eyed babies. Not this…strange looking little lump.

“Help _sarad_ turn onto her back.”

Din obeys, averting his eyes once more as Doctor Shen moves the baby up toward _sarad’s_ chest.

“Now get out.”

Thank the fucking spirits, Din thinks to himself. He climbs off the bed slowly to avoid jostling them. As soon as his feet are on solid ground, he bolts for the door. He doesn’t stop there. Din lunges for the trash can in the corner, pulling the front of his bucket up as he empties his stomach violently. When he can breathe again, Din spits to clear his mouth a bit. Then he pulls his bucket back into place and sinks down against the wall. Doctor Shen is standing there. Her posture indicates she is amused.

“It’s just childbirth, Din,” she says.

“No,” Din says. “That’s not – no. Never doing that to my future wife, _never_ – “

“Was it not miraculous to witness another warrior joining the Tribe?” she asks in mock indignation.

He turns back to the trash can and starts to heave again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been pregnant so I have no idea if any of this is accurate. If you have gone through labor and delivery, and want to tell me exactly where I am wrong, please do so. I did a ton of research to write this chapter, but without experiencing it, I'm afraid I don't know if it's all that accurate. I like being able to correct myself when someone with more knowledge tells me when I'm wrong. Thank you.


	4. renewal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing** : Paz Vizsla x Reader  
>  **Word Count** : ~11.7k  
>  **Warnings** : Graphic descriptions of postnatal life and only a fraction of the stuff that goes along with caring for an infant. Reader develops PPA/PPD and ends up having body insecurities. There is smut at the very end.  
>  **Author’s note** : Whoops I forgot that Urgency needed an update so here we are like five months later. Babies are tough work. There’s more to it than huffing that delectable baby smell and playing with lil toes. Many parents experience PPD/PPA to some extent after having a baby. There is no one treatment that will fit every person. I don’t go into a lot of detail about how Sarad is treated throughout this because I do not have personal experience with this.

Sitting on the toilet, you curse Paz Vizsla and his sperm. Baby Melon is in the rolling bassinette at your side, sleeping peacefully while you try to take care of your personal business. Even with the bacta infusions, your nether regions burn like fire whenever you try to use the bathroom. Doctor Shen had said something about bacta healing the topmost layer immediately, while it would take a few days for the underlying tissue to recover. Hooray for cooling sprays, you think to yourself, as you finish up business there. You wash your hands and peer over at the bassinette. Your sweet Melon is still snoozing.

Okay, you will have some time for a shower.

You carefully roll the bassinet toward the shower stall and park it next to the vent, where it is the warmest. Twisting the handle for the water controls, you grimace as the pipe gurgles and shoots out a spray of water. You hold your breath, not daring to breath for several long seconds. _Please let buir take a shower_ , you plead silently with your child. Baby Melon snores a little, stretching, and you pause, praying to the gods that she does not cry. She smacks her lips and turns her head.

Okay. Safe to continue. 

You take the opportunity to get into the cubicle and start washing up as quickly as you can. Baby Melon had made her debut into the world less than twelve hours ago, and even though she had been a very easy delivery (according to Doctor Shen, at least), it had still taken a few hours for you to even think about getting back up on your feet. Paz had cleaned you up with nice warm wipes after the delivery, but you still feel _disgusting_.

After cleaning what needs to be cleaned, you dare to linger under the spray, letting the heat soothe the tangled mess of aches and pains that your body has become. Paz steps into the bathroom, casting a shadow against the wall.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

At the baritone of her father’s voice, Baby Melon snores again, a babble escaping her. You and Paz stare down into the bassinette, holding your breaths. She stays asleep. Thank goodness. You relax and smile up at him tiredly.

“Hey,” you respond. “How’s everyone holding up?”

“Frothing at the mouth for an update,” Paz says casually. “Do you need anything, _Sarad_?”

“Just you,” you say with another tired smile. “Keep your armored _shebs_ in that doorway and keep the Crotch Watchers away from us.”

His lips quirk up in a wry smile.

“What morsel may I give them to reward them for their acceptable behavior?” Paz asks.

You think for a moment as you turn the spray off and reach for the towel.

“Tell them that we’re happy, healthy, and exhausted,” you say. “And that even though we appreciate everyone’s name suggestions, we are _not_ naming our daughter Buckethead. Or Big Bucket. Or any variation thereof.”

He laughs quietly.

“What now, _Sarad_?” he asks. “Do you need anything?”

“It’s been about two hours since she last ate,” you say, looking down at your leaking breasts. “And we need to figure out a name for her.”

“Armorer might explode if we keep her waiting for much longer,” Paz says with a grin.

“Don’t you dare torment her,” you scold, even though you cannot suppress your smile.

Your _riduur_ chortles. As you step out onto the fluffy rug, he wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you toward him. He presses his forehead to yours, breath fanning across your cheeks. Closing your eyes, you return his tender embrace. Then you press your lips to his. You had intended for it to be a peck, but Paz follows you, deepening the kiss. Unhurried, gentle, _grateful_. Paz breaks away a moment later with a little sigh.

“I didn’t think we’d get so lucky this soon,” Paz murmurs. “You did good, _Sarad_. She’s perfect, just like you.”

Shyly, you press your forehead against his chest, unable to meet his eyes. Before you can respond, you hear a faint tap at the door. Baby Melon starts to shift in the bassinette, smacking her lips and grunting. Paz exhales as the tapping grows louder.

“I swear,” Paz growls, a dark look crossing his face.

“I will get started on feeding her,” you say, ushering him toward the door.

He nods once and grabs his helmet. After putting it on, he goes to investigate. You take that moment to put on your hospital panties and a bathrobe. From there, you wheel Baby Melon into the bedroom and start shifting the blankets back on your bed. Doctor Shen comes bustling in past Paz, her massive bag on her shoulder.

“ _Sarad_ ,” she greets you. “Were you able to use the bathroom?”

“Yes,” you say. “Uh. I urinated, at least. Still nothing with the other route.”

“I’ll give you something to help you stay regular for that,” Doctor Shen says. “I don’t want you straining.”

You nod as she comes to your side and pulls the blanket back. Glancing down at your robes, you decide to forgo modesty and pull it open. Baby Melon needs to eat, and Doctor Shen has seen your titties on more than one occasion. Grateful for the help, you get into bed, and she spreads the blanket across your legs, tucking you in neatly.

Paz comes into the bedroom, loitering by the door, clearly unhappy with Doctor Shen’s presence. Your heart flutters at his protectiveness. There is no doubt in your mind that if there was any danger, he would have already neutralized it. Doctor Shen notices his aggressive posturing, even though he seems to be trying to calm down.

“Paz, why don’t you grab Baby Melon?” she suggests. “I need to give _Sarad_ some nutritional supplements and some bacta.”

Immediately, his shoulders lose their tension. He comes to the bassinette and picks Baby Melon up. Her grunts have turned into grumpy noises. Paz lifts her, both hands supporting her tiny body. Even if Baby Melon is the first baby for the both of you, Paz has clearly had experience with young infants as he confidently lifts her up. The knowledge brings you immense relief, since you know little about tiny babies. That had always been your brother’s specialty.

“Ah, she’s hungry,” Doctor Shen coos. “Is she able to latch on her own?”

“There is nothing in this galaxy that will _stop her_ from latching on,” you say, as Paz brings the baby over.

As you cradle her in your arms, Baby Melon immediately twists, trying to find your nipple. When she finally finds it, she latches on with alarming ferocity, making you wince a bit. Holding her head a little higher, you help her support her head, and she begins to nurse eagerly, her eyes drifting shut.

“May I?” Doctor Shen asks. You nod and she leans in, watching as Melon guzzles down her meal. She makes a few notes. “She’s eating well. It looks like she doesn’t need any help latching.”

“That’s good,” you say in relief.

“You will be making colostrum for a few days. Then your milk will come in,” Doctor Shen says. “Let me have your arm, _Sarad_.”

You make a face but let Doctor Shen have access to your arm. She opens her massive bag and lays her equipment on the bed next to you. A hypospray and bottles of various liquids.

“Nutritional supplement, some bacta, and something very gentle for the pain,” Doctor Shen says, as she clicks the canisters into the barrel. “By the way, I have to ask. Did the two of you ask Din to barricade the doorway?”

You and your _riduur_ shake your heads in tandem.

“Well, he and Junior moved one of the chairs into the hallway,” Doctor Shen says. “Din has his shotgun; Junior has his rock launcher. Judging by the number of pebbles on the ground, Junior’s been quite busy.”

Doctor Shen jabs you with the hypo before you can even flinch. You give her a glower as you grumble under your breath. She loads more canisters into the barrel and gives you a second shot. She puts the hypo back into her bag and tilts her head at you.

“So, what questions do you have about breastfeeding?” she asks.

You pull your notebook out and start going through the questions you’ve thought up of in the past few weeks. They mainly concern breastfeeding and what you can expect in the first few weeks. The tribe has access to reliable storage and sterilization appliances here. However, if you are forced to evacuate at some point, that access may be cut off, and there is no way to know when you will have access to any reliable equipment. You are the first lactating _buir_ here, so if things go south for the Tribe, you will need to provide for any other babies until their _buire_ can provide for them safely.

Breastmilk doesn’t spoil if it’s on demand, and you are healthy. You are happy to provide for the children of the hunters who provide for you. Hopefully, these precautions won’t be needed, but there is no harm in being prepared. Paz starts asking his own questions, and you swap Melon to your other breast. She continues nursing lazily, little smacks and grunts escaping her.

Melon opens her eyes and everything else just… _evaporates_. Your entire world shrinks down to the baby nestled against your breast, your heart swelling with something you can’t name. She’s so perfect, you think, so perfect and tiny and beautiful. Reaching up, you stroke the downy tuft of hair on her head and brush your thumb against her cheek. She blinks up at you sleepily, her eyes unfocused and hazy.

You take a moment to admire your beautiful child. Big eyes, tiny nose, delicate brows. No longer lumpy, wet, and purple. You’ve known her face for less than a day and you already love this tiny creature with every fiber of your being. She has Paz’s chin and ears, you decide. But you can’t quite place her nose.

“ – be back in twelve hours,” Doctor Shen is saying to Paz. “You keep an eye on them. Make sure she gets some water in, too.”

Tearing your eyes away from your precious daughter, you glance over at them. They have migrated to the door. Paz is blocking the doorway, preventing anyone in the hallway from being able to peek inside.

“Aye,” Paz says. “I’ll get some food started, too.”

“And _please_ pick a name,” Doctor Shen says. “Armorer is about to pace a hole in the flooring.”

Paz sighs.

“We will pick a name,” he responds. “Don’t worry.”

Doctor Shen steps out. Paz stays at the door, exchanging soft words with Din. Junior pokes his head in past Paz’s knee and waves at you. You respond to the little wave and he giggles. Then he retreats, presumably to resume his guard duty. After a moment, Paz closes the door and locks it. After dropping his helmet on the bedside table, he crawls in with you. Melon smacks her lips.

“Want to burp her?” you ask.

Paz already has the cloth over his shoulder. He takes Melon and carefully rests her against his shoulder. With a few gentle pats, she lets out a surprisingly loud belch and wiggles a bit.

“So, what should we name her?” you ask. “Any suggestions?”

“I have a list,” he says shyly. “Uh…might have spent my jumps researching names.”

Your heart warms. You can see him sitting in the cockpit of his ship, researching baby names on the extranet, treating each one with the same gravity and deliberation that each step a hunt requires.

“Good, because none of the names I thought about fit her,” you say. “She does not look like an Iris, Rusaan, or Reina.”

“Definitely not a Dynya,” he says.

You frown as something tickles at the recesses of your memory.

“…isn’t that…” The word sounds familiar. You wrack your brain, but you can’t remember what it means. Or what language it’s from.

“It means gourd in Jawa,” Paz says with a giggle as you sigh at him. “Maybe Avaesa?”

“Avaesa,” you say. “Ava? Avie.” You shrug noncommittally. “Avaesa Vizsla.” Not quite right.

“Hmm,” he says. “Maybe not. Miran?”

“Miri. Mir’ika,” you say. “I like it. Miran Vizsla sounds nice. Not sure she looks like a Miran, though. Who did she get her nose from, I wonder?”

He tilts his head, looking down at the baby’s face, seemingly lost in thought.

“…Sayyeh?” he asks softly.

“Sayyeh Vizsla,” you say.

Then you notice the look on his face, like he is going to cry and laugh at the same time.

“After my _buir_?”

His voice is barely a whisper. You look down at the baby.

“Sayyeh Vizsla,” you repeat. A smile crosses your face. “Hello, Sayyeh. Your _ba’buir_ will love you.”

“Would have,” Paz corrects softly, looking down at the tiny baby.

“I’m so sorry, Paz,” you say quietly. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

His lips quirk up a bit sadly.

“The adults stayed behind so the children could flee,” Paz says, rubbing his fingers against Sayyeh’s back. She yawns and stuffs her fingers into her mouth, eyes drifting shut sleepily. “My _buire_ and what remained of the family distracted the Empire long enough for our ship to slip away.”

“Then we will honor her memory by naming our _verd’ika_ after her,” you say. “Hear that, little one? Your _ba’buir_ was a fearsome warrior. One day, you will be one, too.”

Paz smiles. He leans in and kisses the top of her head. Then he exhales.

“So. Tough question.”

“What?” you ask curiously.

“How do you want to deal with the horde outside?” he asks.

“Well, Din and Junior are family,” you say. “So, they get to meet Sayyeh first.”

Hopefully, Sayyeh’s birth has not scarred Din for the rest of your life. Doctor Shen had laughed her way through the story of Din hurling in the corner. You genuinely felt bad for Din for a little while until she reminded you that she _told him_ to not look down. You felt less bad at that.

“Then Armorer?” Paz asks.

“Yeah,” you agree. “Draw numbers for the rest?”

“Sounds good to me,” Paz responds.

Yawning, you cover your mouth.

“Tomorrow,” you say. “We will see how I feel then. But I need to sleep.”

He nods once in response. You curl up next to your husband to get a bit of sleep. Unfortunately, Sayyeh has other ideas in mind, and Paz wakes you up every few hours so she can eat. He stays with you the entire time, watching Sayyeh nurse. The third time he wakes you up, you smile at him, and press a sleepy kiss to his cheek.

“We need a refrigerator,” you say. “That way, I can pump some milk for you to feed her, too.”

Paz nods enthusiastically.

“I bought one,” he says. “Terys is making some modifications to it for us.”

You tilt your head up at him questioningly.

“Modifications?” you ask slowly.

“Yeah,” Paz says with a smile. “I told him I wanted to make sure whatever we put in there got to safe temperatures quickly, so he’s adding some extra cooling units to it. He’s also putting in sensors to make sure we can access the data if we aren’t here.”

You nod appreciatively.

“Din blew a bounty’s entire pay on baby things,” Paz says. “Then again, I’m pretty sure everyone else went a little crazy when you confirmed the news.”

You give Paz a _look_.

“A _little_?” you ask. “Paz, I had an assigned bodyguard every single time I stepped out of this bedroom. Sarad, do you need water? Do you need food? Can I get you a pillow? Let me carry that for you, please. Unfortunately, not a single one of them offered to massage my kriffing feet.”

Paz grins.

“Sayyeh makes our tenth child here in the Tribe,” Paz says. “The provider-to-dependent ratio is skewed.”

You’ve known that, but it’s still jarring to hear that your Tribe only has ten children. Given the number of competent adults here, you think your tribe has the means to care for at least three dozen, if not more. Cheekily, you smile up at Paz.

“Well, we’ll need to adopt many more,” you say.

His face lights up with a sweet look of pure joy, a small smile appearing on his lips as he gazes down at Sayyeh. Even before the two of you had married, his desire for a large family had been evident to you. Paz has always been the first to volunteer himself for childcare duties. From tying knots to reading animal tracks to traditional songs, Paz is always happy to stop what he is doing to teach the kids. When they want to play, he tosses them up into the air as high as he can, always justifying it by saying that “it’s good practice for their first jetpack flights”. He is always ready to teach.

You find yourself thinking that you could not have asked for a more attentive, loving partner. Sayyeh – and the ones that will follow – will be truly fortunate to have Paz as a father.

* * *

Din and Junior are the first people allowed to meet Sayyeh. It takes you a little longer to feel comfortable with having guests, so they end up meeting her on her third day of life. Din has polished his armor to a mirror shine to meet his niece for the first time. Junior is wearing his finest set of play clothes and a handsome little button-up sweater over it all. When you step into the room, Junior immediately perks up, reaching up for the baby in your arms. You take a seat next to him and carefully transfer Sayyeh into his arms. He is not strong enough to hold her up on his own, so you help him hold her head up.

“ _Ba’vodu’ad_ ,” you say gently. “Her name is Sayyeh.”

“ _Olarom_ ,” Junior says, touching her cheek with a tiny, clawed fingertip. “Saay.”

You smile as he stares down at her with big, brown eyes full of wonder. Sayyeh makes a face at him. He lets out a giggle of delight as he looks up at you.

“Saay!” he chirps, touching one tiny claw to her arm.

“After _buir_?” Din asks Paz quietly.

He nods.

“She would have loved her,” Din says softly.

Junior stares down at Sayyeh in amazement, his big brown eyes even wider than normal. Your heart melts at the sight of them together.

“Is it okay if your _buir_ holds Sayyeh?” you ask Junior.

His ears droop and he makes a face. Eventually he nods. Paz comes to shift Sayyeh into Din’s arms. Junior follows, pressing his hand up against Din’s bracer.

“Hold!” he says in a surprisingly bossy tone. “Gentle!”

Din lets out a huff of amusement and adjusts his hand so Junior can see him holding her head up. Junior stands next to his _buir_ , staring down at Sayyeh. He reaches up and starts to touch Sayyeh.

“Gentle,” Din says. “Very gentle, okay?”

Junior coos and strokes her arm with feather-light touches.

“Saay,” he repeats. “ _Ik’aad_.”

“She’s beautiful,” Din says a bit gruffly. “You’re lucky she came out looking like you, _Sarad_.”

“Remember, I choose how much you get to suffer during physical training,” Paz reminds in a soft yet dangerous tone.

“There’s nothing wrong with telling the truth,” Din says, clearing his throat. “Congratulations, you two. She’s perfect.”

You smile and preen at Din’s compliment.

“Oh, we brought gifts,” Din says, looking up at Paz, then at you. “As soon as you told me you were expecting, I went out…uh, I hope you don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” you say. “We will appreciate anything you give us, Din.”

Sayyeh grumbles and wriggles, stuffing her hand in her mouth. She smacks her lips and turns her head toward Din’s chest.

“Is she hungry or am I holding her wrong?” Din asks, a faint note of panic in his voice.

“She’s hungry,” you assure Din.

With a sigh of relief, Din carefully shifts Sayyeh into your arms.

“You two can unwrap presents while I feed her,” you say.

You want to see the presents, but you have no desire to move from your comfortable spot on the couch. Paz hands you a cloth from his bottomless stash of burp cloths. Then you pop open the front of your shirt and let Sayyeh latch on. Junior scoots closer, watching you feed Sayyeh with a look of confusion on his face.

“Why?” he asks, pointing at your boob.

“Sayyeh is hungry,” you say. “I make her food.”

Junior doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he sticks by your side as Din and Paz sit on the floor to open the massive box. With your free hand, you rub the top of Junior’s head, warmth filling your heart at the little _cheee_ he squeaks out at your touch. He rests his head on your thigh, curling up against you.

“There’s a shop on Aldera where I’ve been buying clothes for the kids,” Din says. “They have a pretty good selection of baby stuff, too.”

Paz cuts through the tape holding the flaps shut and folds them back.

“Not sure why everything was divided into girl and boy clothing,” Din says. “I had to go ask for gender neutral clothing to get clothes that didn’t have stupid sayings on it.”

_“Aruetiise_ ,” Paz quips. “Needlessly gendering their infants.”

You shrug in response. It does not make sense to you. Junior mirrors your shrug as Din and Paz start sorting through everything. Paz makes the appropriate noises as he pulls out each outfit. It looks like Din picked up three of each size in a variety of simple, neutral colors. Fortunately, none of the clothes have any designs or ridiculous phrases on them.

“I remember you said something about needing bottles,” Din says. “I grabbed a counter-top sterilizer and a really big diaper bag to hold everything.”

You stare at the massive bag that Paz pulls out of the box. It’s plain black, with numerous pockets and a sturdy padded strap. Morbidly, you think you could probably fit an entire body into that bag, if you fold it up correctly. Absently, you switch Sayyeh to your other breast, adjusting everything to avoid flashing Din. You aren’t shy about your body, but you think he has already seen more of you than he probably ever wanted to see. Sayyeh keeps nursing hungrily. Occasionally, you rub her back to keep her awake and eating.

Paz and Din talk as they pack everything back up. After burping Sayyeh, you sit her on your lap, resting her head into the crook of your elbow, so she can watch everything that is going on. Junior curls up on your other side, reaching out to touch Sayyeh’s foot. After the thirty-minute visit is finished, Din makes his excuses, and comes to grab his sleeping child.

Armorer gets the next visit. She coos over Sayyeh and holds her. The three of you make conversation until Armorer’s visit is over. Everyone else gets to peek at her and say hello. By the time you get through the first ten people on your list, you are exhausted. Sayyeh is starting to get cranky, so Paz takes her back to her crib and gets her settled for her evening nap. You head to bed for your own nap, curling up under the blankets and cuddling into his side. Your heart feels light and full, as if there is nothing in this world that can bring you down from your baby bliss.

Unfortunately, reality has other plans in mind.

By the time Sayyeh reaches her fifth day, you find yourself an overwhelmed wreck. Even though you are exhausted, you cannot find rest at night. The medical sensor on Sayyeh’s chest chirps if there is anything out of the ordinary with her breathing patterns or blood oxygen saturation, but your thoughts are constantly on her health.

Every noise has you waking and reaching for your data pad to check on Sayyeh’s vital signs. It gets to the point where you just leave your data pad unlocked and propped up on your side of the bed. Sometimes you sit up in the bed, watching as your husband sleeps, wondering _how_ he can sleep right now. It frustrates you to no end that he can find sleep and you can’t keep your eyes closed for more than a few minutes at a time.

You are not prepared for Paz to resume his duties at the end of the week. He isn’t away for more than a few hours at a time but each minute without him there feels like an eternity. In just a few days, life becomes become a haze of breastfeeding, changing diapers, and trying to tend to your own needs. Your body is still a mess of aches and pains, even with the additional bacta and supplements. Everything _hurts_.

As Sayyeh starts to whimper, tears spring to your eyes.

_Not again_ , you silently plead with her, _please let me rest_.

Sayyeh begins to wail – loud, ear-piercing, and high-pitched cries that make your ears ring. You lift her out of the crib and check her diaper. Clean and dry. You offer your breast, but she refuses to nurse. Instead, she continues to scream, her face turning red as she squirms in your arms. You walk the perimeter of the living room many times, rocking her gently, trying to soothe her, but nothing seems to help your wailing baby.

You even try to sing her a song, but she only cries. When you come back to the nursery, you set her down in the rocker. She wails again, curling her knees to her chest. You go through your list again: diaper is clean and dry, she is not hungry, and she will not sleep. With her next heart-rending wail, something in you just shatters. You sink to the ground next to the rocker. Burying your face into your knees, you sob along with her, rocking her gently.

Somehow, you manage to grab your data pad and ask Paz to come home. You aren’t sure if the incoherency of the message is what tips him off, but he is home within two minutes of you pressing ‘send’. He comes hurtling into the nursery as Sayyeh lets out another screech. He falls to his knees next to you, pulling his helmet off.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks urgently.

“Crying,” you manage to get out around your hysterical sobs. “Won’t – stop – “

Paz kisses the top of your head and scoops Sayyeh out of the rocker. He settles down next to you. Once more, he goes through the same checklist that you had. After a moment, Paz sets her down on his thigh, carefully leaning her forward against his leg, like a tiny bomb.

With one hand, he holds her upright. With the other, he rubs her back gently. Sayyeh grunts and squirms. Like a bomb, she detonates, except this explosion comes from the diapered end of her body. Paz jerks in surprise. He keeps rubbing her back even as he tries to turn his head away from the stench of baby flatulence.

Sayyeh eventually calms, though she hiccups on occasion. Her face is red, and her nose is runny, so you wipe up some of her snot and tears with the clean end of one of her burp cloths. Then Paz gets her asleep and into her crib. He joins you on the floor and pulls you into a hug. You start crying again.

“Hey,” he soothes. “What’s wrong?”

“I – c-can’t even t-tell wha-what is wrong,” you sob at him. “She w-was cry-crying for so long – “

“It was just a little gas,” Paz says. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Our baby w-was in pain,” you get out around your sobs. “I c-could-couldn’t tell wha-what was hurting her – what kind of _buir_ – what kind of – b-bad parent am I – “

“You are a great parent,” Paz says gently.

His words do little to soothe you. It feels like the past few days – week? _Weeks?_ – have been piling up on you. Sayyeh has done little but cry and eat and sleep. Half the time, you cry and try to sleep when she does. But you _can’t_. The guilt of not being awake when she might need you – the thought that she might not wake up if you aren’t there by her side – fills you with such guilt that it makes you sick to your stomach. And now, you can’t soothe your baby properly. You can’t even tell when she’s gassy.

This should be your happiest time, but you’re surrounded by such despair and worry and sadness that you wonder if you were truly meant to be a parent. What will happen in the future if she really is sick and you waste precious time trying to check her diaper and rock her to sleep? What if your incompetency results in irreparable harm, or even her death – ?

The thought breaks you. You pull away from Paz and promptly empty your stomach on the rug. Paz freezes as you start to cry again. He reaches out and touches your shoulder. Irritably, you swat his hand away.

“ _Sarad_ ,” he says softly, his tone so gentle you feel like you don’t deserve it. “I’m going to call Doctor Shen, alright?”

You nod at him and wipe at your tears stubbornly.

“I hope we didn’t miss anything,” you say, turning to look at Sayyeh.

Her face is wet with tears, but she appears to be sleeping well. Relief fills you and you sink back down onto the ground. Paz pulls his helmet on and picks up the rug. Then he steps out into the living area. You drift off against the crib, your head bobbing. You can’t make out what he’s saying to Doctor Shen, as he’s keeping his voice low. Your head bobs forward against your knees and you start to fall asleep. _Sayyeh._ You jerk awake and check on the baby. Is she okay – ?

The next time you are aware of yourself, Doctor Shen is kneeling next to you, and Paz is hovering in the doorway. She points an annoyingly bright light into your eyes. Then she examines your thyroid, poking and prodding, before finally taking a vial of blood from your arm.

“ _Sarad_ , when was the last time you got a few hours of uninterrupted sleep?”

You blink at her.

“I-I’m not sure,” you whisper.

“When was the last time you ate?” she asks.

You lean your head back, thinking hard. You vaguely recall eating a bread roll, but you genuinely can’t remember what day it was.

“I don’t know…”

“And when did you last drink water?”

“A few hours ago,” you say. “Just before she started crying. Grabbed a glass.”

She nods once, entering the information on her data pad.

“Can you tell me the date?” she asks.

You draw a blank and shrug at her.

“It’s all been a blur,” you confess. You break down in tears again. “I’ve been so worried about her.”

“Why are you worried?”

“I’m scared that something’s going to happen to her. She’s so little…”

“ _Sarad_ , I want you to come to medical for a little bit, alright?” Doctor Shen asks. “I’m going to give you some more nutritional supplements. Then we’ll talk for a little while.”

You nod once. Now that she is sitting in front of you, you realize that you desperately need help. This level of anxiety is not normal. You kiss Sayyeh’s forehead and then hug your husband. He holds you tightly, resting his chin on your head. His hands stroke your back gently, firmly, like he is telling you that he will be here no matter what.

There is no shame in relying on your Tribe for help. Doctor Shen gives you something for the anxiety and sets you up with some of the other _buire_ in the Tribe. She remarks that it was probably the isolation that kept you from getting into a regular schedule. You don’t have to see Paz’s face to see his guilt at having neglected you. You don’t blame him, though.

You have both been so engrossed in Sayyeh’s care that neither of you have taken the time to look after yourselves or each other. He hasn’t shaved since before her birth. You aren’t sure when the last time you took a proper shower was. So, when Doctor Shen gets you on something for the anxiety, and sticks a medical monitor to you, you head home. You hover in front of the nursery, fighting the urge to go stare at her. Swallowing your anxiety, you trust Paz to look after her, and force yourself to take a shower. As you relax under the hot water, the fear starts to leave you, in little drips and drops until your body is sagging against the cool tile walls.

Paz is a competent warrior. He is a capable father. He has proven this to you many, many times. If he had not been willing to be there for you when you needed him most, he would not have entertained the idea of swapping vows with you. You rest your head against the tile, repeating your mantra to yourself: _I can do this_. _I am a good buir._ When you feel clean and _human_ again, you towel off and get dressed in bed.

Drifting to the nursery, you cannot help yourself. You linger by the door. A small smile crosses your face as you hear Paz singing a soft song to Sayyeh.

“ _My child, my little warrior,  
With eager hands and watchful eyes,  
You will one day learn this song.  
You will know the sacred flame burning bright.  
You will make the hammer’s song take flight.  
My child, my little warrior,  
With hammer raised and head held high,  
You will one day stand in my place.”_

As his voice cracks, you try to retreat, but he notices you.

“Hey,” he says gruffly, swallowing tightly.

“Hey,” you respond softly. “You alright, Paz?”

“I’m fine,” he says, shaking his head. “Just memories.”

“They sound so beautiful,” you say quietly.

He smiles down at the baby in his arms.

“My _buire_ would have loved her,” he says quietly. “They would have loved you.”

An inexplicable feeling fills your stomach – something that feels like a pang of sorrow, but not quite, that feels you leaving nauseated and overjoyed at the same time. _Would_ they have loved you, if they had known that your marriage had not been formed from a place entirely of affection and respect? Before you can go too far down that path, Paz looks up and quirks a brow.

“I can hear you overthinking things,” he says with a handsome grin on his face. “They would have loved you, _Sarad_.”

Smiling, you come a step further into the room. You peer down at Sayyeh, who is snoozing quietly in Paz’s arms. You touch her soft, downy hair. Then you lean in and press your lips to the side of her head, inhaling the soft scent of her soap and that baby smell. The two of you stand there with the baby, simply watching her sleep. At long last, Paz reaches out with one hand. He cups your chin and lifts gently until you meet his eyes.

“You need to sleep,” he says quietly.

His words earn a massive yawn from you, one that you feel in your diaphragm as your toes curl. You nod in agreement. With one last kiss to Sayyeh’s brow, you take a half-step back. That anxiety starts to take root in your belly, but you focus on the fact that _Paz is here_. There is no place safer in this galaxy than your _riduur’s_ arms. You go through the checklist Doctor Shen had given you earlier as you smile up at him. _Acknowledge your feelings. Take several deep breaths. Remember that Sayyeh is safe._ Then you retreat to the bedroom and force yourself down onto the covers.

Paz comes in a few minutes later and sets a bottle of water down on your side of the bed.

“Meds?” he says.

“Oh, fuck,” you respond, letting your head fall back onto the pillow. “I am so glad you have enough braincells for the two of us, _ner riduur_.”

He laughs as he opens the bottles for you and doses them out. You sit back up, grimacing at the pain from your midsection. Because you are breastfeeding Sayyeh, Doctor Shen has you on something gentle that won’t be passed on in your milk. You take the pills and drink some of the water down. Paz climbs in next to you. As usual, he takes up most of the bed. At first, you’d wanted a bigger bed, but now, you enjoy finding your sleepy spot tucked up against his side. You settle in and rest your head against his shoulder, running your fingers along the holes in his raggedy sleep shirt.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter.

That pang of sorrow migrates into your throat and you start to cry again. Before he can say anything, you throw your arms around him and squeeze him tight.

“Hey,” he says, his voice startled, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you confess to him, burying your face against him, voice slightly muffled. “I genuinely don’t, Paz. But I am so glad to have you. _Thank you_.”

It takes you a few minutes to calm down. Equal measures of relief and mortification fill you. You have tried so hard to be strong – to keep yourself and the Tribe together, to ensure that everyone has been taken care of. There aren’t many people you _can_ confide in, and you figure they’ve got enough on their plates to deal with. But Paz…offering to help shoulder your burden, as well as his, is not something you’re used to yet.

“What is it?” he asks softly.

“I just…we’ve been married for…almost a year, and…we’ve spent most of that time apart,” you confess shakily, already feeling silly. “I just…I’m glad you’re here for me, Paz. I’m glad you want to make this…make _us…_ work.”

He rolls onto his side and pulls you against him.

“ _Ner cyare_ , I swore my vow to you. I would not have sworn it if I did not mean it with every fiber of my being.”

His words bring you a small measure of relief, but it doesn’t completely soothe away your fears. Closing your eyes, you snuggle a bit closer to him, resting your head on his arm. Paz runs his hand up and down your back, massaging away the aches you had not noticed before. His breathing is slow, and you can feel his breath tickling your forehead. Closing your eyes, you start to feel sleepy as the medication starts to kick in.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you whisper, your voice slurring. “I’ve never had anyone like you, Paz. No one with a heart as big as yours. Hands as gentle as yours. Never had anyone who cared the way you do.” His hand falters on your hip. “Feel so lucky. I-I…never thought…”

“Never thought what?” he whispers.

Drowsily, you pull away from that warm space between consciousness and sleep, where everything is a bit fuzzy and you feel like you’re floating away on a gentle current. You’ve already forgotten about the outside world. There is only here and now in Paz’s arms. Nothing else matters.

“Never thought,” you mumble. “I’d love anyone…as much as I love you, Paz.”

His hand goes still on your hip. A quiet inhalation escapes him. But you’re already drifting off, breaths deepening as the sleeping meds finally win out. You miss the kiss he places on your forehead as he tucks you under the blanket. Then he wraps his arm around you, curling his body around yours, your shield from the outside world.

* * *

The next few days are a haze to you. At least it’s a happier haze than the one before.

Paz stays with you most of the day, looking after you and Sayyeh. He isn’t happy with how much weight you have lost, so he makes sure to bring you extra snacks between feedings. When you see Doctor Shen again for another checkup, you’re back where she wants you, and you are feeling _much_ better about yourself and your skills as a parent in general. Paz is a wellspring of information and he never makes you feel inadequate about what you _don’t_ know. With each passing day, you grow more and more grateful that you have him.

Of course, you start to overthink it, and confess to Doctor Shen that you’re worried you won’t be able to reciprocate. After all, Paz has given up so much more than you have. He has not gone out on a hunt since before Sayyeh was born, and you know how much he loves the thrill. Before you could go too far down that path, Doctor Shen placed one hand on your arm and smiled at you.

“ _Sarad_ , Paz has only ever wanted one thing in life,” she said quietly. “To have a family of his own. You have given him that. I can assure you that there is _nothing_ in this galaxy that could ever make him happier than to be here with you.”

Those words strike a chord in you. Before those three days spent together, the two of you had been acquaintances. You had nursed a mild attraction to him for months before then, as did many other members of the Tribe. Then that attraction had become something deeper, something you could not quite explain. It was something that lingered at the edges of your mind, like the smoke and embers kicked up by a campfire you could never find. A small part of you didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility that your little crush could be more than that, so you just put it aside and prepared to ignore it for as long as it existed.

At least, those your were intentions, up until that fateful afternoon where you had to choose whether he would live or not. It took only moments for you to decide that you were willing to risk death to ensure he could stay alive. You thought it was your loyalty to him that drove you to that decision, but you had been so, so wrong. It wasn’t until the two of you had to face the aftermath that you realized that the thing you felt for him was love, a love so deep that it frightened you.

_How_ had something like that developed when he barely ever spoke to you? Was it when you noticed that he always ensured everyone had a full plate of food before ever sitting down to take any for himself? Maybe it was the way he readily used his own body to shield his _vode_ in combat. Or when he was there in the hallways, soothing a crying child while the _buir_ tried to find some measure of rest? Maybe it was the few minutes he would take to pick out something small for someone in the Tribe. Everyone, at some point, had been the recipient of some small gift on his behalf – a piece of candy, a new part for something he noticed wasn’t working, or something that had caught his eye.

He isn’t good with words, and you know that first-hand. Paz shows how much he cares with each and every little thing that he does. Every like and dislike that he remembers. Every time he takes a round for someone while covering their retreat. Every time he offers one-on-one lessons to help someone improve. Paz is the walking, breathing, living embodiment of the _Resol’nare_ and in your shortsightedness, you had failed to recognize it. The realization is such a sudden and profound one that you have to sit down, your head swimming dizzyingly from the shame of having _not noticed,_ of having taken him for granted. No matter how much he gives, he never asks for anything back.

Despite the fact that you and Paz have spent maybe four _months_ together in the past year of marriage, you feel secure with him as your _riduur_. You know how loyal he is to those who have earned it from him. Whether he is loyal to you because you are married or you have truly earned it, you know he will never stray from your side. Paz has never looked down on you, nor has he ever elevated you on a pedestal. He has only ever treated you with respect and consideration, as both his _riduur_ and _buir_ to his child. Knowing those facts does more for your anxiety than you can verbalize. There is no force in this universe that could ever compel him to willingly abandon you or Sayyeh.

Now, your only fear is that he may not ever love you the same way you love him. Even though he takes his helmet off around you, he still has to make the conscious decision to do so. You can see it when his hands falter over the sides of his helmet as he reaches up, so you always turn away to give him privacy. Often, you have to remind yourself that _this isn’t about you_ , that this is about _his oath_. Sometimes, you can’t help but to blame yourself that he’s even in this position of being married to someone he barely knows.

Would he have survived without your help? You push the thought away – there is no way to know the answer to that question, and you don’t think he will be too pleased if you _do_ ask him. It’s still a sensitive spot for the two of you, and even though you have had multiple discussions, you know he will always blame himself for those three days to some degree. Paz has always blamed himself for things are not his fault.

Slowly but surely, your body starts to recover from pregnancy and labor. Your mental health follows with Paz’s constant presence, a lot of one-on-one therapy with Doctor Shen, medication, and scheduled time away from being a _buir_. Those scheduled socialization breaks are the hardest thing you have ever had to do in life, including having given birth and breaking a few bones in a bad fall. Doctor Shen cajoles you into letting someone other than Paz look after Sayyeh. After all, once you have recovered, you are going to need to start letting others mind her while you work. You are _not_ looking forward to teaching, but the children miss you, and you miss them, too.

Sayyeh grows stronger with each day that goes by. She recognizes your voices. When you can cuddle with Paz at night, she will latch on and just watch Paz over your shoulder. She clearly knows who he is, and it makes your heart melt when Paz’s face brightens up with pure delight at the sight of his child.

Din gets volunteered into childcare duties first. At first, he resists the idea, giving a variety of excuses like not knowing anything about young babies. You are not sure if it’s the threat of Doctor Shen’s wrath or Paz asking nicely that convinces him to give in. Din concedes defeat gracefully and agrees to look after Sayyeh for an hour each week.

All too soon, you are recovered, and ready to return to your duties. At three months, your body is completely healed – no aches, pains, or bleeding. You have been living in Paz’s sweatshirts and your stretchy pants for the past few months, so you hadn’t realized quite how much your body had changed. You end up needing to see the Armorer for some modifications to your chest plate. You also end up needing to stop by the tailor’s table for new clothes to accommodate your much curvier figure. As Sayyeh starts to settle into a routine to eat and sleep, your workload gets shuffled around a bit to accommodate you breastfeeding the baby or pumping milk for her every two hours.

No one minds, especially when they get to coo at her when you’re finished feeding her. Some of the other adults – and some of the teenagers – will volunteer to burp and old her while you get ready for your next lesson. The first few times are rough, but something about having someone nearby, ready and eager to look after Sayyeh brings you an immense measure of comfort. When Doctor Shen brings up the idea of letting someone look after Sayyeh overnight, it only takes you a few moments to agree to it.

You would _love_ to be able to sleep an entire eight hours without interruption and wake up to breakfast in bed. You float the idea by Paz, who immediately agrees. Din, of course, being her _ba’vodu_ , is the first you two turn to for this. Din agrees, though hesitantly, and asks for a very detailed guide on what he needs to expect. You and Paz happily oblige, packing that ridiculously large diaper bag without enough supplies for a week. When Din has gone off with your precious baby, you stand there, not quite knowing what to do.

Paz dumps his helmet on the table and takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension in them. Then he cracks his neck and starts taking off the rest of his armor, leaving it scattered on the table. Normally, he puts it somewhere within reach of the bed at night, but it looks like he doesn’t care right now. Once he has stripped down to his _kute_ , he exhales gustily.

“I need a shower,” he says tiredly. Then he grins at you. “Wanna join me?”

“Yes,” you say. “ _Please_.”

He is already half-naked by the time you make it into the bathroom. Absently, you watch his shoulders and back muscles flex as he starts to work his pants off. When he does, you can’t help but to lick your lips when you note just how _tight_ his ass is looking. Has he been working out? When? He turns the water on just as you start to admire his thighs. He holds his hand under the stream until it reaches his preferred temperature and turns to look at you over his shoulder.

You just barely get your eyes up to his in time. Based on the smirk he shoots you, you think he knows exactly what you were looking at. He steps in.

“Come on, _Sarad_ ,” he says.

Eagerly, you begin to strip down, kicking your clothes toward his pile. As you start wriggling your bra off, you happen to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and freeze. Your hair is a ratty mess. There are bags under your eyes – though less prominent than they were before. Your eyes keep travelling downward, cataloguing every change in your body. Before pregnancy, your breasts had been nice and firm. Now…they look bloated and sag closer to your waist.

Well, if you _had_ a waist. Livid red stretch marks cover your belly and hips. Your stomach had once been so firm and muscular. Now, you look like you are in the early stages of pregnancy again, except your stomach skin is loose and wrinkly. Standing straight up, you can just barely see your toes. Oh no. You sneak a peek over at the shower, where Paz is humming quietly. You step on the scale and grimace when you see you are still about fifteen kilos over where you had started. Why hadn’t Doctor Shen told you at your last visit?

“ _Cyare_ ,” Paz cajoles, breaking you from your reverie. “I’ll wash your back. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Chewing on your lower lip, you step off the scale and go join him in the shower. Paz takes up most of the stall, as usual, so you worm your way between him and the wall so you can get cleaned up. It doesn’t take long, fortunately, as Paz seems to be keeping his promise to be on his best behavior. You wash up in the corner, keeping your body turned away from his so he won’t see anything. After he scrubs your back, you return the favor, methodically washing every square centimeter of skin. He lets out a rumbling groan of pleasure as you dig your fingers into his shoulders. His head sags against the tile as you work your way down.

This is fine, you think. He cannot see your body _and_ you can make him feel nice. Once you are finished with his back, you let him have the spray, rinsing until all the soapy suds are gone. Then you reach up to the handle and turn the spray off. Paz steps out and hands you a towel. You dry off as quickly as you can before wrapping yourself in the fabric and tucking the end in firmly, covering up as much of yourself as you can. Paz strolls out of the bathroom, completely naked and without a single care in the world.

Judging by the fact that he is half-hard already, you know _exactly_ what he wants tonight. You wait until he is occupied to come out of the bathroom. Immediately, you make a beeline for the shelves where you keep your clothes and pull out one of his newer shirts. The material is thick and falls halfway to your knees, so he will not be able to see anything underneath it. As you tug it on, Paz catches you in a surprise embrace from behind. He starts kissing your neck, one hand falling to your waist, the other cupping your breast.

He grinds his cock into your lower back. Your body reacts almost instantaneously, nipples hardening and your cunt squeezing around nothing. His lips drift down to the back of your neck, where he starts nibbling in that way that makes your knees wobble. Then he breaks away and spins you around to face him. Paz kisses you, fingers tangling in your hair, tilting your head back to devour you. For just a moment, you forget your insecurities as he grinds up against you, letting you feel just how _hard_ he is. As he withdraws, he nips at your lower lip.

“Bed?” he asks.

“Yes,” you whisper, “Gods, yes, Paz.”

Paz steers you toward the bed, matching each of step until the backs of your legs hit the mattress. You break away to pull the covers back and crawl in, tugging Paz in after you. He lets out a rumbling purr as he settles between your thighs, his weight both heavy and comforting. Squeezing your knees at his waist, you lift your hips against his, sighing with pleasure as his lips find your neck once more. Paz starts to wriggle the shirt up, but you tug it right back down to cover up your stomach.

He draws back.

“How will I be able to kiss every part of you with that in the way?” he asks, fingers stroking up along your thighs. When you gnaw on your lower lip, the heat seems to leave his gaze, and he tilts his head down at you. “What’s wrong, _cyare_?” he asks softly.

“I’d…I’d rather keep it on,” you mumble, not meeting his eyes.

He stares for a moment before sitting back on his heels, your knees on either side of his thighs. He observes you for a moment. You sigh quietly. You know your _riduur_ is not going to continue until he knows for a fact you are comfortable with him.

“Paz, I’m…I’m really unhappy with my body right now,” you confess. “I would rather not…be seen like this.”

“ _Cyare_ , I don’t know what you mean when you say like this,” he responds.

You give him an unimpressed look.

“Paz, I’m fourteen kilos over my normal weight,” you say dryly. “I’m _fat_.”

He puts one gentle hand on your thigh, breaking you from your train of thought.

“No,” he says softly. “I won’t hear you talk about yourself like this, _cyare_.”

“Paz, it’s true,” you say in frustration, your head falling back onto the pillow. You keep your hands wrapped firmly around the hem of his shirt, keeping it in place, covering every part of you that makes you insecure. “I don’t like my body the way it is right now.”

Paz starts to rub your thigh.

“Why do you say that?” he asks softly.

“I’m covered in stretch marks. My tits are sagging around where my waist _should_ be. I _am_ fat, and I _am_ ugly – “

“ _Cyare_ , right now, all I see is the most beautiful warrior I have ever seen in my life,” Paz interrupts softly, firmly, as he squeezes your knee gently. “Please,” he whispers. “Let me see you.”

You worry your lower lip for a few moments. What if he does not like what he sees? After a few moments, you nod. Then you start to wriggle the shirt up out of the way before tossing it aside, hoping you won’t see disgust in his eyes. You cover your breasts with your hands, watching as his eyes go dark again. His hands slide further up your thighs, goosebumps prickling along your skin in the wake of his touch.

He leans in and kisses the inside of your knee. As he works his way up, your breath comes in shorter and shorter pants, your eyes squeezing shut at the exquisite combination of pleasure and pain as he occasionally stops to bite. He soothes away the sting with a kiss. You desperately hope he will take mercy on you, give you some relief from the aching between your legs, but he doesn’t. He starts over on your other leg, kissing your calf gently. Then he bites down when he reaches your inner knee.

“I don’t see what you see, _cyare,_ ” he says in a soft rumbly tone. “I see my wife. My _riduur_. My _cyare_.”

He punctuates each word with a kiss or a nip, breath fanning across your skin. As he draws higher the anticipation builds, like electricity arcing up your spine ahead of his mouth that leaves you breathless and trembling. At long last, you can feel his breath against your clit, aching and prickling with need. He presses one kiss against you, drawing a short cry from your throat as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“I see my life-partner,” he says. “The warrior I’ve chosen to raise warriors with.”

Before you can retort, remind him that technically neither of you had much of a choice, he kisses you again, his tongue flicking out to tease you. Paz settles on his front, pressing another kiss to your clit. A shower of stars explodes behind your closed eyelids as he drags his tongue along your slit, undoubtedly tasting your slick. How can he want you like this?

“Open your eyes,” he says softly.

You will yourself to obey. When he has your attention, he leans in and presses another kiss to you. You cannot help but to moan for him, your walls clenching wantonly as he trails one finger around your entrance, testing to see if you are ready for him. You see only lust in his eyes, a hunger so deep it makes you _ache_.

“Paz,” you whimper. “ _Please_.”

“Hush,” he rumbles.

One finger slips in and you _moan_. It’s the first time you’ve had anything down there in months. His finger is familiar but unfamiliar, thicker than you remember yet not quite the same. Paz works his finger in with short, gentle thrusts, as if afraid he is going to hurt you. He continues flicking his tongue against your heated flesh until his finger glides in and out effortlessly. Carefully, Paz slides a second finger in. He lets out a harsh groan of pleasure when you squeeze around his digits. Paz continues his slow, agonizing pace, scissoring his fingers in and out of your clenching channel. As your hands fist on the sheets and your hips start rise to meet his fingers, he uses the flat of his tongue, lapping at your roughly. The wet sounds of his fingers inside you grow louder as you get closer and closer to the edge. With one final swipe of your tongue, you hit your climax, a choked cry escaping you.

He continues lapping at you, drawing out your orgasm until prickly, overstimulated discomfort overtakes the pleasure. You tap on the back of his head and he stops.

“I see the mother of my child,” he says, pulling his fingers out. “The woman who carried our child for forty weeks.”

“Paz,” you whisper thickly, as he settles on the bed cross-legged.

He offers his hand to you and you take it. He pulls you up and helps you settle in his lap, legs on either side of his hips, spreading you wide open for his eyes. You feel naked and vulnerable, but the hunger in his gaze stops you from covering yourself.

His cock bobs between your bodies, the head already dark and flushed with his arousal. You reach down to stroke him, but he stops you. Paz locks eyes with you and brushes his fingers against the side of your face. You lean into his touch, pressing a kiss against his palm, as you lift your hips. Paz positions the tip of his cock at your entrance. You take over then, sinking onto him, welcoming him inside once more.

Slowly, you ease him further and further inside of yourself, your entire body quivering as his thick cock parts your walls once more. His eyes are focused on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort, but there is none. When you have taken him all the way, you exhale, letting out a breath you did not know you’d been holding. You lock eyes with your _riduur_ , stroking his shoulder as you simply hold him inside you. At the insistent throbbing inside, you start to grind against him, his hands holding you securely against him.

“I see the woman who continues to nurture our child,” he says softly. “I see the woman I want to continue raising warriors with.”

Tears spring to your eyes at his words and your throat tightens up a bit. Paz reaches up, brushing away your tears with his thumb. You lean in, pressing your forehead to his, rocking your hips slowly. His hands skim along your shoulders and he cups your breasts, fingers lightly squeezing your sensitive areola.

A fine spray of your milk hits him in the chest. You start to wipe it off, but Paz catches your hand and returns it to his shoulder. He kisses you, telling you that it’s okay. That he doesn’t find your udder-like breasts disgusting. Paz kisses his way to your neck, and then your shoulder, and then he tilts you back, his lips moving further down.

You freeze as he kisses the top swell of your breast. Curiously, you watch him.

“These were beautiful before,” he says, as if he doesn’t notice that you’re leaking all over his chest as you grind on his cock. He presses a kiss to your other breast, cupping it gently, the warmth of his palm soothing the ache from being too full. “And they are beautiful after.”

You swallow tightly as his hand falls to your waist, his fingers tracing the stretchmarks there.

“How could I see these beautiful marks with anything but joy?” he continues. “One for each day you carried our child within you. One for each day you nurtured her with your own body.” His fingers are as light as feathers, tracing over the marks you have come to hate so much. “One for each time I’ve looked at you and wanted to fall to my knees to worship you, _cyare_. You gave me something I have always wanted. Something I never thought I deserved. Much less ever have.”

His voice chokes up.

“You’ve given me a family, something I’ve been longing for my entire life,” he says. “Yourself, our child, and our future _verd’ika_. There is nothing I can do that will _ever_ equal what you have given me, _Sarad_.”

Your breath hitches as you wrap your arms around him and press your forehead to his. There is no part of you that doubts his honesty. He doesn’t find your changed body repulsive. Paz finds you _beautiful_ , and he genuinely wants _you_. He shushes you, hands mapping every new curve on your body and chasing away the self-doubts that had filled you with such darkness.

He locks eyes with you, breaths mingling as your sweat-slick bodies move together as one. With each roll of your hips, you spiral higher and higher toward climax, tingling heat spreading through you in sharp, unrelenting waves. Paz’s hands tighten around your waist, your only warning that he’s getting close. As you rock harder against him, you finally crest, a sob escaping you. It feels like you’ve fallen headfirst into molten magma, heat filling you with pleasure you cannot even begin to describe – thick and buzzing as it sucks the breath out of you. Everything ceases to exist but you and Paz, your walls convulsing around his thick length over and over again.

Your vision goes a bit fuzzy as you suck down a breath of air to your starved lungs, fingers and lips tingling from just how hard you came. As he guides you on his cock, you can feel him pulsing inside you, filling you with liquid heat. He groans shakily as his head falls forward onto your shoulder.

As you rest your head against his shoulder, exhaustion starts to set in, but he does not release you. His hands knead at your ass and hip, the other flat against your lower back to hold you steady. His lips kiss away tears you had not noticed falling earlier. Your heartbeat slowly returns to normal as you hold him snug inside you. Paz strokes your back as you tuck your face against his shoulder, seeking his warmth.

“ _Sarad_ ,” he whispers in a shaky voice. “I see the woman who holds my heart and soul in her hands,” he whispers. “I see my _riduur_ , the woman I love above all else.”

At his admission, your breath hitches, and you start to cry again. You hold him in a fierce, tight embrace. “I love you,” he whispers again. “I love _you_.” Sobbing, you choke the words back out at him. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to tell you,” he continues. “Every night, when you’re asleep, I whispered it to you, hoping you’d hear me say it.” He buries his face against you. “I love you, _cyare_. I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too,” you croak out hoarsely.

“Every night, those will be the words you fall asleep to,” he says gruffly. “And those will be the words you wake up to, _cyare._ I _promise_.”

Smiling, you press your forehead to his in another kiss.

“I’ll hold you to it,” you whisper back.

* * *

**[Epilogue]**

Sayyeh babbles to herself. You have her on your hip, her hand wrapped around the neck of your shirt as you make your way from the workshop to the _karyai_. Today marks her first full year of life, and even though Mandalorians don’t celebrate birthdays the way other people do, you want to spoil her with one of her favorite meals – grains simmered in bantha milk until mushy. She likes it a bit spicy, just like every other Mandalorian child likes their food. Paz takes Sayyeh from you and presses his forehead to hers, earning a giggle.

“Wait for me,” you tell Paz. “I need to drop some supplies off for Doctor Shen.”

He nods and goes back to cuddling with Sayyeh. You turn on your heel and head toward medical. There, you find the doctor at the counter, her attention fixed on something in front of her. You place the bag of medicine down next to her.

“Hey, you alright?” you ask her, wondering if she needs more supplies.

“ _Sarad_ , have you and Paz resumed sexual intercourse?” she asks in a brisk, clinical tone.

You nod.

“Yes,” you say in confusion. “Why?”

Doctor Shen lets out a long, self-suffering sigh. She thrusts the PADD into your hands. You glance down at the screen. Rows of abbreviations you don’t understand. Numbers that make no sense. At the very end, you see something highlighted in bright pink.

**_PREGNANCY: POSITIVE_ ** ****

“FUCK,” you blurt out, as she shakes her head.

* * *

**[Bonus]**

Paz keeps his promise to you.

Every morning, when he is home with you, he wakes you up to the sound of his voice whispering _I love you_. Ever night, he kisses you and whispers it into your ear as you fall asleep.

When the two of you are parted, he makes up for it by recording himself saying _I love you_. In Mando’a, in Basic, and in every new language he comes across. Every morning and every night, you and the children listen to Paz’s voice, waiting for the day he finally returns home so you can hear it in person.

When the children have grown up and left home to start their own families, the grandchildren hear soft iterations of _I love you_ from their parents and from Paz. Every morning, and every night, you listen to your husband’s voice and remember the innumerable number of times you’ve heard him say those sweet words.

Every morning and every night; for every week, month, year, and decade that follows, Paz keeps his promise to you, to the children, and their children, until he goes marching far, far away without you.

Every morning and every night, you listen to the recording, waiting until it’s time for you to follow him. When that day comes, you _know._ You stay in bed and you close your eyes to the sound of Paz saying _I love you,_ listening as his rich baritone fades with the years until it’s that soft, tired tone that had whispered one last goodbye to you.

_I love you, ner riduur_.


End file.
